Reencounter
by Unfriendly Fire
Summary: A WWII fighter pilot crash lands in an archipelago and encounters a distrustful dragon. As he attempts to gain its trust, he uncovers the area's lost history. However, it becomes clear that enemy aircraft aren't his only problems in a world driven mad. (Story complete)
1. Chapter One, Crash Land

**Author's notes: **FYI, due to the original Ch 2 being combined with the new Ch 10, and all other chapters (other than Ch 1) being shifted down by one, reviews posted before 4/19/2013 for chapters other than Ch 1 will be out of sync. For example, a review for the original Ch 6 actually refers to the new Ch 5, not the new Ch 6.

There's a dictionary at the bottom of each chapter for military or foreign language words. Let me know if you come across an unfamiliar word that had no dictionary definition with it.

Oh, and don't worry. There will be a dragon later in this chapter.

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><p><strong>Chapter One, Crash Land<strong>

_Today is 1944, April 2nd. Welcome to Keroman IV base, which is located on an unnamed island in an unnamed archipelago. The archipelago is located somewhere in the Norwegian Sea, north of Britain and west of Norway._

_It was built early in the war, when Der Führer hoped that a rocket could be developed, manufactured, and fired at the Yankees' homeland, such as New York City._

_Sadly, his dream came nowhere near true, and the research team was shipped back home. Bombing raids also replaced resupply ships as our visitors after the Brit and Yankee naval forces tightened their grip on the Atlantic Ocean. _

A lone Messerschmitt Bf 109 fighter aircraft was flying away from the base's airfield on an early, clear morning. Another aircraft took off as well, but instead of joining the first one, it proceeded to dive at several anti-aircraft guns that were manned by half-asleep crews, then pull steeply up right before smashing into them.

Unsurprisingly, this spooked the trigger-happy crews into firing shortly after the first dive, and somebody turned on the air raid siren.

The other anti-aircraft crews that were sleeping in their barracks came sprinting out to their battle stations, many of them still in their pajamas or underwear and undershirts, some buttoning up their shirts or pants.

The first pilot, the one that wasn't diving at hostile anti-aircraft cannons, turned on the radio's microphone and asked, "Anton, is that you?"

"Good morning, Daniel! Just playing a little prank on the anti-aircraft gunners," Anton replied.

"You know that even as a friend, I'm required to punish you for such actions. That may include ordering you to wash all of the gunners' underwear for two days. Assuming you don't become a fireworks show," Daniel warned as he loitered around the base in a circle to get a view of Anton's stupidity and recklessness in action as the sky was being dotted with puffs of black smoke and metal shrapnel from the exploding anti-aircraft shells.

Anton's plane was nicked by a large shell, one large enough that it typically demolished an aircraft with one hit. His aircraft quickly tumbled out of the sky after eating several hails of smaller shells, and then it nearly crash landed on the runway.

A few of the anti-aircraft batteries almost immediately turned their attention to Daniel's aircraft, and made their intentions clear when they opened fire. Loud pings echoed through the aircraft as some of the high velocity metal shards embedded themselves in the aircraft's skin.

"You are shooting at a friendly aircraft! Cease fire! Cease fire!"

The radio crackled, "This is Oberstleutnaut Schleicher. Hauptgefreiter Eisenhauer. Were you the dummkopf who attempted to spook us? Because only one aircraft was supposed to take off this morning, not two, and we have a downed aircraft with German insignia on it."

"No sir, but I'll deal with the pilot once I'm done with my mission. Now please get them to stop shooting at me!" Daniel replied.

"Already ordered them. Have a nice patrol," the Oberstleutnaut replied. Daniel chuckled at a mechanic ranting angrily in the background about how he had just finished repairing the troublesome ME 262 and was in no mood to repair an even more chewed up aircraft.

Daniel continued to fly for the next hour or so, trying to find anything suspicious. He flew through a few low clouds, close to a steep mountain on another island that was surrounded by the Atlantic Ocean. It was a very beautiful morning—few white clouds, a beautiful red and orange sunrise, and the islands below him were covered with green vegetation.

_Our radar station had noticed something flying around on the edge of their radars' range for the past week or so, after numerous troubleshooting and calibrations of their constantly malfunctioning radar systems. I was sent out to search for the unidentified object and neutralize it if it was hostile, but I hadn't seen anything yet. I think they had screwed up the calibration or something._

Daniel then noticed something very dark blue flying below him. He pushed on the controls to send his aircraft into a slow dive. As he neared the large unidentified object, a tail, head and the flapping of what appeared to be wings were apparent, but he still wasn't quite sure what he was looking at. The thing had no feathers and shared little resemblance with bats.

He then did a tight turn around the unknown thing while decelerating just above the aircraft's stall speed, and flew in a circle around it to try to get a closer look. The object then increased its speed and dove toward another island, through a narrow, curving gap between two steep mountains. Daniel positioned his aircraft behind the object and proceeded to stalk it, gently tilting towards the left.

The dark blue object pulled up hard and disappeared from Daniel's line of sight. He knew his aircraft could not match the object's maneuverability, and decided to give up chasing it, figuring that it was probably something else that was getting the radar station's attention. He pulled up his aircraft and tilted it hard left to get out of the gap by flying over a portion of the mountain that was lower than the rest.

Suddenly, a fireball came from behind him and slammed into one side of the mountain, exploding in bright flames, throwing hot gravel everywhere and rocking the aircraft. It spun in a brief barrel roll as a dark blue blur zipped overhead and flew back up. The tip of the aircraft's wing scraped the other mountain side, sending sparks flying.

_What the heck just hit me? _

He evened out the aircraft and pulled up harder. He mashed the accelerator and scanned the area that was viewable through the canopy. However, the sun was behind the object, preventing him from spotting it. Such situations often significantly shorten pilots' life spans, when they weren't aware of the enemy's position.

"We've got hostiles at..." Daniel was about to finish when he realized the radio was dead, most likely from the explosion or the gravel.

Another fireball appeared from the side and slammed into the rocky surface that was several meters below and behind him, sending more hot gravel into the aircraft. A large rock ricocheted off the canopy, leaving a spider web of fractures in the glass. The explosion and the hot air it generated tilted the aircraft into the rocky ground, nose first.

Cursing, he yanked hard on the control to pull up, but the aircraft's propeller and part of the engine ended up biting into the rocks. It crumpled into a useless, twisted metal mess before he managed to pull up to prevent a crash landing. He turned off the broken engine and piloted his aircraft towards a sandy beach on another island about half a kilometer away, hoping to make a soft landing.

The dark blue object reappeared in Daniel's line of sight again as it dove toward the troubled aircraft from the right, and slammed its claws against the aircraft's nose and fuselage, leaving deep dents in the two sections, and nearly completely shattering the canopy. It then began to push the aircraft down and towards another part of the island. It had a cliff that was only a very short distance away from the beach. At the base of the cliff was a very small gravel beach littered with boulders.

_Landing on large rocks and ramming into the cliff side at high velocity—what a peaceful way to die._

He pulled out his pistol and attempted to jettison the canopy of the cockpit by pressing on a red lever. When the glass and metal frame only came off halfway, he punched at it to remove it, and fired a few rounds at the murderous flying object, but the sheer wind resistance threw off his aim considerably.

The object spun around as it backed off from the aircraft. His and the object's eyes locked for a split second. He realized the object looked a lot like one of those childhood fantasy dragons. Its green eyes were cat-like and somewhat squinting, strongly indicating that it was clearly not pleased to meet him. Its skin seemed to have faintly outlined scales on it, or a scale-like pattern. It also had a scar on the side of its face that ended a few centimeters below the eye.

As the dragon flew away, it smashed and broke off about half of the aircraft's right wing, sending the aircraft spinning in a corkscrew. Daniel unbuckled his seat belt and jumped out with his parachute backpack as soon as the airplane was upside down. He then pulled the string of his backpack, releasing the parachute.

Almost immediately, the dragon spat a weak fireball from a distance, and it burned through the parachute, leaving a gaping hole in the fabric and setting the remains on fire.

_This just keeps getting better and better..._

The dragon dove down, grabbed onto Daniel's shoulder, smashed him face-first into the water, and kept him under the surface for several seconds while flying at high speed. What appeared to be a very short period of attempted drowning was an eternity for him. The dragon then pulled up, threw him onto the rocky beach, and flew off.

With Daniel's pain nerves firing all over his body, he slowly rose, coughing up the salty water. He looked up and noticed the dragon entering another dive. Acting on instinct, he dove for cover behind one of the groups of large rocks just before a fireball slammed into the beach.

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><p><strong>Author's notes:<strong>

Terminology (German words):

-Der Führer: Adolf Hitler

-U-Boat: (Anglicized version of the German word unterseeboot, submarine)

-Unterseeboot: (literally translated as underwater craft, submarine)

-Dummkopf: (A stupid person, a block head)

-Hauptgefreiter: (Lance Corporal)

-Oberstleutnaut: (Lieutenant Colonel)


	2. Chapter Two, Second Meeting

**Chapter Two, Second Meeting**

Pain. Numbness. Two feelings that would logically contradict each other, but Daniel felt both pain and numbness throughout his body, along with dizziness, as he woke up on a cloudy day. He took off his goggles and spat out two or three pieces of gravel while struggling to get up, convinced that he might have cracked or broken a few bones.

He climbed over the rocks that he had jumped over for shelter, and saw the partially melted gravel in the crater created by the fireball, now filled with water. He decided to keep the useless parachute backpack in case it came in handy and began to walk down the beach, in the direction he last remembered the plane flying. The only noise he heard was the crashing of the waves.

He came across a small wrecked and rusting ship beached on the shore. It appeared to be partially melted on the entire upper side, with a gaping hole to the inside of the hull's compartment. Two or three equally deteriorated artillery guns were scattered around, somewhat sunken into the gravel.

Exploring inside, he found nothing much of an interest, except for crates of spoiled canned food, weapons, ammunition and other supplies. The crates were labeled as property of the Royal Navy. What were the Brits doing here? This island has nothing of value.

When he entered what remained of the captain's quarters, he noticed a moldy calendar on an equally moldy bed, with the year "1898" on the front cover.

After exiting the ship and walking for about half an hour, he reached a part of the beach where the cliff wasn't as tall or steep. A recently clipped tree with a piece of metal stuck in it showed the way to the plane. He climbed up the cliff, expecting the plane to be within a short distance, but all he saw was another tall, clipped tree in a wide, long, heavily forested canyon with steep cliff walls on both sides.

_Thank you, engineers, for ensuring that the plane flies far without a pilot, even if it is completely wrecked._

After climbing over the increasingly steep and rough terrain while under physical conditions that would have put basic military training to shame, he stumbled over a tree root and fell face first. He got back up slowly with his nose throbbing, and then proceeded to walk through a gap between two large boulders. Then he fell, again.

As he got back up, wincing, he noticed the airplane wreck was mashed against a pile of large boulders on the other side of a lake, across a large cove. The left wing was detached and lodged into a tree overhanging the wreck. A puddle of aviation gasoline and oil sat behind the wreckage; the gas tank and the oil cooler had been torn away during the crash and were lying behind the plane in the puddle. A piece of aluminum skin hung from the gaping hole that the two components had fallen through.

He limped slowly towards the wreck while looking around and pulling out his combat knife, hoping to salvage anything useful from the plane.

"No dragons here to give me a bad day..." Daniel quietly said. He looked around one more time before climbing into the hole on the right side of the aircraft. There wasn't a lot inside, just lots of twisted metal, wires, some oil and gas, and a crushed pilot seat—the impact had been harsh enough to detach the armoring plate that separated the cockpit from the fuel tank. He then crawled back out of the wreck and noticed something on the ground. He picked up the package. Pilot biscuits, aka molar breakers...

He then heard a scraping noise, shortly followed by a distinctive rumbling. He couldn't think of how to properly describe the sound while under the influence of his dizziness, but he knew it was unnatural and malicious. He looked up; the dragon was less than a meter in front of his face.

He clumsily swung his knife at the dragon's face, but it reared back and chomped onto the metal end of the knife, then yanked it out of Daniel's hand and threw it far out of his reach. Daniel boldly said, "So, you're the thing that shamelessly destroyed military property, repeatedly attempted to commit homicide, and inflicted great emotional and physical harm on me."

The dragon narrowed its eyes, then proceeded to jump towards Daniel as he turned around and quickly crawled through the hole that he had earlier. Just as the dragon was about to poke its head in, Daniel pulled in the dangling aluminum skin and pressed his body against it, preventing the dragon from sticking its head into the aircraft.

He soon heard the dragon walking around the wreckage, occasionally pushing aside some things and testing the skin of the aircraft by gently banging against it with its tail. There was soft sniffing from behind the plane, then a whooshing sound, and then Daniel smelled something burning.

The dragon had identified and ignited the fuel puddle; it wouldn't take long for Daniel's temporary refuge to become a makeshift oven and smokehouse. Stunned at the dragon's high intelligence, he looked around frantically and noticed the broken canopy. Just as he was about to climb through it, he saw the dragon perched on top of a tall rock in front of the canopy, coldly staring down at him.

"I could either be eaten, or cooked alive..." Daniel said to himself as he searched for an escape route. He noticed another weakened portion on the other side of the aircraft and punched it, busting it open and catching the dragon's attention.

He jumped out of the hole before running, hearing the dragon jump down from the rock and move around the wreck. He didn't have a chance of survival if he tried to run out in the open, so he decided to head towards the lake. It would give him an extremely slim chance of not becoming a dragon's fast food lunch.

He dived into the lake, only centimeters away from the chasing dragon. He felt it attempt to grab onto his legs, but he kept on swimming deeper into the lake. After waiting for a few minutes—minutes that felt like hours—he swam to the surface for a breath, his lungs burning.

Immediately, the flying dragon grabbed onto his shoulder and yanked him out of the water. He uselessly banged his fists against its body for a few seconds before giving up as the dragon flew higher and higher into the air.

After flying for a while over the island, the dragon began to descend toward a small mountain with a very large cave in its side, and dropped him at the entrance. Unsure of what to do after getting up, Daniel asked, "Why didn't you try to kill me like last time?"

Without responding, the dragon proceeded to push him into the dark cave. When he attempted to slip past the dragon to get out, it roared at him, exposed its teeth, and pushed him back into the cave. As he descended deeper into the cave with the dragon watching him, he turned on his flashlight and briefly examined the tunnel's ceiling and walls. There were numerous cracks in the walls and a few shallow holes, and they appeared to be somewhat recent.

When he reached the end of the long tunnel, where it was blocked off by a massive pile of boulders, he nervously crawled through a narrow gap between the rocks that was several meters long. When he reached a small platform, an extremely large chamber was in front of him with a very high ceiling.

He regretted going through the tunnel to investigate what was on the other side. He was stunned by the sheer number of dragon skeletons that covered the bottom and parts of the sides of the chamber—possibly hundreds or thousands of them.

_That dragon had a reason for hauling me here._

Daniel noticed another opening to the chamber on the other side. He shuffled along a narrow path that connected both tunnels; it was dotted with dragon nests with skeletons in them. He occasionally stopped to examine a skeleton, and soon identified around a dozen dragons based on the intact skeletons, occasionally ones that looked like infants. Very few of the skeletons showed any obvious physical damages caused by weapons, so it was unlikely that something had come in and bludgeoned all of them. Maybe it was the plague that had done it, but who knew?

When he reached the second opening, he noticed a skeleton that resembled the structure of the dragon that had pushed him into the cave. Unlike the other skeletons, it had a hole in its skull and a corroded bullet lying next to it. He walked for about twenty minutes and noticed the tunnel's condition was just like the other one he had gone through, except the blockage was more loosely fitted. A little bit of sunlight poked through the tiny gaps between the layers of boulders and a large.

He climbed through the opening and after he entered the other half of the tunnel, he looked down and saw something new and terrifying lying there, with severely damaged dragon skeletons several meters away from the piled boulders.

There were dozens of human skeletons, all of them physically damaged, and some were weathered more than others. One skeleton had a corroded piece of metal stuck in its skull, and another was missing its head. None of them had intact clothing; most of the cloth had been tattered and burnt years ago. He was fairly sure more people had died, since there were bone fragments littered everywhere.

He bent down and checked the clothing for anything useful, trying his best to fight down the urge to panic at the sight of so many dead dragons and people in the same area. He found letters in varying conditions and a moldy diary, and immediately recognized the writing to be in Swedish. Although he had learned the language while in high school and college, it had been a while since he'd put it to use. He sat down and started reading the letters and the diary slowly, attempting to recreate in his mind what had gone so horribly wrong.

_1904, January 22nd..._

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><p><strong>Author's notes:<strong> Chapter 2 revised (beta'd) by LaughableBlackStorm.


	3. Chapter Three, Flashback of a Dragon

**Chapter Three, Flashback of a Dragon**

A mining explosives expert set his kerosene lantern on an empty crate and sat down as the team finished placing the last of the explosives in the drilled spots. A broken skeleton covered with tattered rags and a broken rusted rifle laid next to the crate.

Years ago, the British tried to clear out the nest. However, it appeared to be that they weren't very stealthy since most of their wreckage were scattered next to a beached and destroyed ship. American miners were also among the dead, though it was unknown if they were aware of what was residing in the cave that they intended to mine. Everyone in the task force knew what happened in the past as it was impossible to ignore the obvious piles of skeletons, equipments and other stuff.

As the expert stared at a piece of gold lodged into the cavern wall, Officer Otto barked at him impatiently, "Come on, we need to get going, the other team is going to set off their stuff at the agreed time, regardless if we are prepared or not! Are you really that scared Carl?"

Arne Otto was known for being stoic, stubborn and protective of his men, sometimes the men resented his excessive protectiveness. He was very large and strong man, and also had a large beard and a wide shoulder.

"We put most of our unused dynamite sticks and some of the howitzer shells next to the tarp, and have one of them attached with all of our fuse wires tied together. We spread the remaining shells and sticks throughout the cavern to ensure all of the explosives go off. After we light the fuse, we all know what we should do. Hopefully the metal slugs and explosive shocks are sufficient, because those frozen solid nitroglycerine packages aren't going to be fazed by a fuse. If all goes well, we sail back to the good old Sweden in one piece. Hopefully." Carl replied, pointing at his hand drawn map of the cave's tunnel and all of the locations of the placed nitroglycerine packages and dynamite sticks.

One of the task force members asked, "Why can't we thaw them by warming them with fire?"

"I've seen plenty of nitroglycerine igniting when they're being thawed, and it's not a pretty sight. Especially the old explosives that became increasingly unstable as they aged, such as our 50 years old nitroglycerine packages." Carl softly responded.

Inside the nest chamber, a very young dark blue dragon woke up and noticed that the tunnel to the outside was pitch black, but with little bits of light coming through in straight lines. The dragon worked its way out of its mother's blanketing wings and flew to the tunnel, only to bump into the tarp. Confused with the obstacle, it spat a small flame and set a small portion of the tarp on fire before pushing through.

Everyone stared at the burning portion of the tarp, then froze in horror when a young dragon ripped through the burning section. The tarp was suppose to insulate the sound and block the light from the task force so the dragons wouldn't wake up; they couldn't set up the explosives and light them with dragons buzzing around their heads.

A trigger happy task force member fired a shot at the dark blue dragon, nearly missing and only leaving a flesh wound in the dragon's face. The young dragon let out a high pitched scream as it flew past the frightened task force and to outside. "You idiot! You woke up the entire nest! You know how well that ended for the previous folks!" Otto shouted as he fixed his bayonet onto his rifle. A much larger dark blue dragon smashed through the tarp and let out an angry roar. The dragon had a good reason to be furious, its baby was injured, and the whoever caused the harm would pay with its life.

Another task force member fired a bullet at the mother dragon's head, silencing it. The young dark blue dragon heard the gunshot and turned around, seeing that the one of the two-legged creatures just killed its mother. It let out a whimper and attempted to fly back, but it was driven back by another gunshot.

All of the other dragons inside the nest stirred awake from the noise echoing from the tunnel. A few of them woke up quickly, completely burned down the tarp and flew towards the task force, very displeased that their sleep was disturbed and that a fellow dragon was killed.

An explosion echoed throughout the cave, shortly followed by a deep rumbling sound of rocks tumbling down; the other team had set their explosives off as soon as they heard the gunshots.

"Ett... Två... Tre... Ugh, I don't think we brought enough body bags." a military doctor complained.

"Dr. Bergenstråhle, you mean for the dragons?" Otto asked.

"No, for us." Dr. Bergenstråhle calmly replied in a slightly lower tone.

All of the other task force members were already attempting to flee, but the tunnel was quickly filling up with overwhelming numbers of dragons. They brought very few firearms since they expected to put down the dragons with explosives instead.

"RUN!" Carl screamed as he tripped over two skeletons. A group of green dragons as small as cats knocked him down as soon as he attempted to get back up and mobbed him.

Otto, much closer to the incoming wall of dragons, scored several kills with his rifle and bayoneted a formidable orange-brown burning dragon in the head. He then reloaded and attempted to shoot down a yellow brownish bulldog-like dragon.

The bullets didn't faze the dragon as it fired a glob of lava at Otto's face at close range. The bulldog-like dragon, ignoring the bullets it was absorbing from the other armed task force members, proceeded to fire more globs of lava at them.

A burning dragon without forelegs used its claw-tipped wings to advance towards the mobbed task force. It sprayed a stream of flaming liquid at a few of the members that were standing a little too close to the dragon, deep frying them. One of the flaming members stumbled and fell on top of a crate of dynamite sticks in panic, setting off a lethal chain reaction.

Panic soon erupted in the nest shortly after the second explosion. Both exits were sealed off by the explosive-induced cave-ins, there was no other adequate airflow to the nest, ensuring a slow, agonizing suffocation of all of the dragons.

Except for the young dragon that was about a month old; the only one that got out before the nest was sealed off. As the dust settled, the dragon let out a cry and futilely fired a few small fireballs at the massive boulders, before resorting to attempting to push them aside for hours. It could hear the faint roars, screams and other noise from the dragons through the thick blockage. The noise gradually faded as morning came. The light snowing outside begin to intensify and turn into a blizzard.

It eventually gave up and slowly flew away in the harsh freezing weather, looking back at the blockage every once in a while. A sudden strong gust of wind pushed the dragon towards the nearby forest. It attempted to fight the wind for a few minutes, but it was soon tired out, lost consciousness, and crash landed on a pile of snow.

The dragon would barely survive the harshest and longest winter in decades. It would be something it would never forget.

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><p><strong>Author's notes:<strong>

Terminology (Swedish):

Ett: One

Två: Two

Tre: Three


	4. Chapter Four, Testing Trust

**Chapter Four, Testing Trust**

A pair of eyes opened, followed by a yawn. A hand brushed aside a few strands of hair from a person's forehead.

_It must be hours since I fell asleep._

He got up and then froze when a certain portion of a letter he hadn't read yet caught his attention.

"These monsters cannot co-exist peacefully with us. Either we finish them, or they finish us."

He read it again before turning off the flashlight. He was about to pick up the letters and diary to put in his parachute backpack, but something told him to leave them in peace. He set down the letters and diary before standing up and saluting for a brief moment.

After he stepped outside of the cave and wandered through the forest for a while, he realized he had completely lost track of time. The sky was darkening, his stomach was growling, and his throat was burning.

A large, crumbling, moss-covered stone structure sat in the middle of an unusually sparse section of the forest. There was an arch in the structure where the main door used to exist. He stepped inside the building and looked around; it appeared that there used to be an ancient settlement around here, and the building had been of great importance to them. The roof and much of the walls had collapsed, and anything organic such as cloth or wood had been conquered by age. A dark figure flew across the sky, most likely the dragon.

After looking around for a few minutes, he left the building and kept walking until he reached an end of the mesa. Across a steep channel, there was another moss-covered stone structure. However, a small portion of it appeared to be conquered by more than a millennia of severe erosion; it wouldn't take long for the rest to crumble into the ocean. The structure appeared to be an arena of some sort; there was a main entrance and several chambers connected to the center, and a random pile of rocks.

_Maybe the Norse were here. Their settlements were quite frequent in the area around the Norwegian Sea._

It was extremely dark when he left the abandoned settlement, causing him to trip over something and fall into a depression in the ground. Looking around carefully, he realized he was back at the cove and next to the now-burnt wreckage. He picked up the package of molar breakers, tore it open and set it in the water. He had a firsthand experience of watching someone try to eat the biscuits plain, without soaking them in a liquid, or softening them first. That person had ended up having to go to the dentist for a few artificial teeth pieces for his shattered teeth.

He took a sip of the water before walking back to a boulder and leaning against the side of it, his stomach rumbling in hunger. At least he wasn't going to sleep thirsty.

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><p>Something was chasing him through a foggy alley. He tried to command his feet to move, but they wouldn't budge. Three people were barreling towards him; two of them had blonde hair and brown eyes, while the third one looked a lot like him. The third person morphed into a vicious looking dragon.<p>

"Obviously we're going to treat him as a friend! That's what we came here for, right?" one of the two remaining people jeered.

Shortly after the dragon opened its mouth, full of sharp teeth, and lunged towards him...

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><p>Daniel shot up in alarm in the morning, drenched in cold sweat. He got up and gathered some branches for a fire, then reality hit him in the head as he piled the branches; he had no means of starting the fire. He could have used the airplane's battery to light up one, but the fire had for sure destroyed it.<p>

Overhead, the dragon dove towards the ground gently and landed several meters away, with a massive fish that was barely alive hanging from its mouth. It couldn't swallow the fish whole while flying, especially when the fish was still flopping around, and that had forced it to land and eat it in pieces. Daniel's stomach growled loudly as the dragon took its first bite, and it unsympathetically snarled at him for a few seconds before finishing its meal and flying off.

During the afternoon, while sitting in the cove, he picked up the molar breakers that had been soaking overnight from the water. _Better soggy than molar-breaking_, he thought to himself as he took a bite of one of the biscuits.

There was one problem.

Although the biscuits were soggy on the outside, they were still hard on the inside. Desperate for something to eat, he scraped off the thin soggy parts and ate them. He picked up a rock and pounded away at the remaining hard pieces of the biscuits for a few minutes.

The rock cracked and split in half; the uneaten portions of the biscuits didn't show any signs of chipping or denting.

_How does one make partially waterproof flour bricks? They say that the pilot biscuits have cement in them. Do I believe it now? Yes, I do._

Standing up and breathing heavily, he noticed a pistol —his pistol—dangling on a tree branch close to the airplane; now he could actually hunt something. There was an increasingly loud whistling noise in the air; something was diving towards him. He walked over to the tree, grabbed the gun, and ducked just as the dragon swooped over him and landed harshly. It turned around and immediately started growling at him when its eyes locked onto Daniel's pistol.

_Do I shoot, or stand down?_

He aimed it at the dragon. Its growling became increasingly aggressive. Something inside Daniel's mind was telling him to give peace a chance, while something else told him to empty the entire magazine of bullets into the monster.

A lone bird chirped, the only noise that echoed through the forest other than the dragon's growls. Drops of sweat rolled off of Daniel's face, occasionally stinging his eyes, but he kept a steady aim.

He lowered his pistol, ejected the magazine and dropped it all to the ground in a swift motion. The dragon stopped growling, but still remained in its defensive position.

Daniel kicked the pistol and magazine away, but the dragon grunted and remained defensive, so he kicked them again, this time into the water. The dragon turned its head to look at the ripples, and then turned back to face Daniel.

"Can we call a ceasefire? It's not going to help if one or both of us are dead," Daniel said. The dragon snorted and stared at him with narrowed pupils.

"Look, I'm not going to hurt you."

The dragon proceeded to pounce and pin him down, roaring angrily right in his face before backing off and flying away.

_Well, at least he didn't bite my head off. That's a start._

A large clump of moist dirt and grass fell out of the sky and hit him in the head. Brushing the dirt off and looking up, he noticed that the dragon's front paws were slightly coated in bits of dirt and vegetation.

He shook his head and headed to the lake to wash. Diplomacy with a grudging person was never easy, nevertheless with an intelligent non-human creature. But hopefully the dragon was smarter than the world leaders who couldn't prevent two brutal world wars and a Great Depression within a half a century.

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><p><strong>Author's notes<strong>: Chapter 4 revised (beta'd) by LaughableBlackStorm.

Terminology:

-Magazine: (An ammunition storage and feeding container, capable of automatically loading bullets into the firearm with a spring)


	5. Chapter Five, Stage Setting

**Chapter Five, Stage Setting**

A captain of a convoy's escort cruiser was nervously standing in the navigation bridge of the ship, looking through his binoculars, with surrounding ships' lights twinkling with the stars in the clear night sky above him. His ship and several others were escorting a convoy of 32 supply ships, which were essential to Britain as it was an island country and lacked enough resources to fight a war on its own.

Reconnaissance and intelligence reports had warned him of a pack of U-boats and a battleship heading towards the convoy from the south, and were expected to arrive in around about half an hour. They had also warned of possible small German air support.

The five destroyers would have no problems with the U-boats, and the three anti-aircraft naval trawler ships, recently converted from their former fishing tasks, could handle the enemy aircraft.

However, the battleship was something not even the larger cruiser could handle, or even all of the combat ships combined. It could at the very least damage the convoy should they choose to fight, allowing the wolf-pack of U-boats to hunt down the surviving ships. It could also scatter the convoy with its intimidating and devastating broadsides, allowing the U-boats to pick off the ships one by one. Assistance from nearby battleships and cruisers were about an hour away, and aircraft carriers couldn't assist because even the best trained crews needed about an hour to arm the dive bombers, especially if they had to waste precious minutes getting up from their sleep.

"Sir, do you think we stand a chance?" a junior officer asked in a thick Irish accent, as he handed the captain another telegram report.

The captain slowly read the report, ignoring his anti-Irish sentiment.

All of the color drained from his face.

The battleship was identified as the Bismarck_._ He glanced to the side, towards a section of a wall. An old yellowed newspaper clipping was glued to the wall, with the date 25th May 1941.

**The HMS Hood and Prince of Wales Sunk!**

He knew the Bismarck had already sunk the famous battleships Hood and the Prince of Wales in just one brief battle about three years ago. Sinking the Hood had generated the same response in the Royal Navy, the government and the public, as if the Buckingham Palace had been carpet-bombed. The concept of the largest unsinkable ship in the navy being sunk was absurd. The sinking of the Prince of Wales had only added salt to the injury.

Although the Bismarck spent much of its time sailing from harbor to harbor with angry British ships constantly on its tail, it had scattered a total of three supply convoys, around 20 ships each, allowing the U-boats to finish off two of them. It was last seen in the port of Bergen, a large Norwegian city, and it had somehow miraculously slipped past a vengeful British fleet about a week earlier.

"No, not at all, at least for this ship. We're outarmoured and outgunned, even with the destroyers. Perhaps we can hold off the Bismarck just long enough for the convoy to sail to safety."

"Uh, sir, our radar station identified another large ship, a heavy cruiser or battleship, heading our way from the north," another junior officer informed as he set down his phone.

"Also, we just got the message that the Tirpitz isn't in its port; it was last seen sailing in our general direction. There are several battleships and cruisers giving it a chase, but they're behind by around 40 minutes. The dive bombers failed to knock it out."

"Tirpitz. Isn't that the sister ship of the Bismarck? Did they finally bring it out of its defensive position to send something to the bottom?" the captain asked in disbelief.

"I'm afraid it's a yes for both of them, sir."

"Tell the crew that they're free to eat or drink whatever they want in fifteen minutes, before reporting to their action stations. It's their last meal."

* * *

><p>"Have you heard about Daniel's disappearance yesterday, after he went on a morning patrol?" a pilot asked, right before swallowing a spoonful of cheerless lunch. It was tasteless leftover fish stew from last week's dinner, and it was both overcooked and undercooked. The mess hall's kitchen staff was infamous for its poor cooking and organization, and too frequently abysmal storage.<p>

The base's mess hall wasn't that cheerful anyways. The huge windows had been replaced with thick concrete slabs years ago, before the radar system was installed and the unterseeboot pens were abandoned. A lone RAF dive bomber had dodged the searchlights during a stormy Christmas. However, the pilot had gotten confused in the clouds, and instead of attacking one of the pens it had dropped a torpedo into the mess hall during dinner. The torpedo had smashed through one of the window panels, sliced through a cheerful overhead "Merry Christmas" banner and crashed directly in front of one of the rows of metal tables.

One second the targeted table's diners were eating their first-time delicious holiday meal at the base. The next second glass pieces were flying across the hall and a torpedo was sliding underneath the targeted row. The tables didn't have enough space underneath them for the torpedo to pass through, and couldn't lift off the ground to create room because of the combined weight of the sitting diners. As a result, the tables bulged a little upward as the torpedo passed through them.

Daniel had been sitting at one of the targeted tables; he was the last one to arrive for dinner. He had lowered his head to deeply inhale the mouth-watering smell of the dinner and was about to take a bite when the food was suddenly thrown into the air and mashed into his face from the bulging of the table.

"Danke, schweinehund." It was his first time using of foul language.

The kinetic energy of the torpedo was sufficient to keep it skidding underneath the row and across the mess hall. Paul was unfortunate to be at the wrong place at the wrong time when the last table of the row got caught on the torpedo and hurdled towards him, and there were no diners to hold it down because they had already fled. He was chased out of the mess hall by the killer table before it hit a nearby wall.

When the chaos had settled down, the majority of the diners noticed that there was a metal canister sharing the same room with them, containing a few hundred kilograms of TNT, and its menacing propeller was still whirring at max speed.

Right after the mess hall was hastily evacuated, the torpedo detonated, delivering a free holiday interior demolition service. Terrible news for the laundry folks because their Christmas present was an overdose of laundry stained with a variety of messes, ranging from beer to tomato sauce to brown/yellow stuff.

To add more insult to the literally crashed Christmas, a certain person decided it would be amusing to build and send replicas of the torpedo to the diners of the directly affected tables as presents. He was promptly strung up onto a flagpole during the New Year's Eve's blizzard.

"I heard about Daniel's disappearance; it's been a while since I've seen him, I wonder what happened to him. What about Anton? I can still remember receiving that so-called present," another pilot said.

"Paul, he's still in detention, or currently washing everyone's laundry. I wish him the worst," an anti-aircraft gunner frowned. His frown turned into disgust when he poked at a suspicious, cold part of his stew with his spoon, uncovering a dead maggot.

"Why the face? It's not the first time it's happened, so get used to it. Those poor cannon fodders down at the Russian meat grinder would be extremely joyful for a bite!" a mechanic commented, while swallowing a spoonful of the stew.

"You never got used to their sugarless 'eggnog' which didn't have any eggs. Not even the dogs would dare to drink it. Speaking of the Russians, why don't we ship Anton over there?" Paul replied. "He'll be so busy trying not to die that he'll stop pulling pranks. Or maybe put his pranks to good use against the kommunists."

A search light operator shouted, "All those who are in favor of Anton being deported to the eastern front, say 'Yea'!"

A significant portion of the diners shouted, "Yea!"

"All those who are not in favor of Anton being deported to the eastern front, say 'Nay'!"

"Nay! The nays have it!"

Most of the people who had voted in favor of Anton's deportation turned their attention towards the dissenter.

It was Anton the unpopular prankster, and his wide smug grin only infuriated them. Two guards nonchalantly walked into the mess hall and made a beeline for Anton.

"Detention escape, again?" one of the guards asked.

"A little birdie gave me this," Anton cheerfully replied as he pulled out an orange card and showed it to the guards.

**Get Out of Jail Free**

They pulled him from his seat and dragged him out of the mess hall.

Paul and the rest of the servicemen continued to eat their possibly maggot-infested mush until lunch was over. Another group of people was waiting outside of the mess hall for their meal period to start. The base had four different meal times around noon. Instead of all of the personnel scrambling out of the mess hall if the sirens went off, most of them would be ready for an air raid.

As Paul walked out of the mess hall, he overheard a conversation.

"Gefreiter Ludendoff, I'd like for you to conduct a search around the archipelago for Hauptgefreiter Eisenhauer this afternoon," an officer asked. He had an Oberstleutnaut rank enigma on the side of his uniform.

"Oh, uh, yes sir," the pilot weakly replied as Oberstleutnaut Schleicher walked away.

Paul speed walked towards Schleicher and caught up with him. "Why did you ask my subordinate instead of me?" he asked.

"Obergefreiter Struve, a few of the servicemen, including the pilots, mentioned that you have a grudge against Hauptgefreiter Eisenhauer. I doubt someone who dislikes a certain person would be interested in rescuing such person. Now if you would excuse me, I need to get to my command post immediately," Oberstleutnaut Schleicher replied before walking away, this time at a slightly quicker pace.

As he stepped outside while fuming, he leaned against a concrete barrier and noticed two alike and somewhat damaged battleships sailing in a line towards the harbor, flying flags with the swastika. One of them appeared to have been rammed by a smaller ship and was listed towards the damaged side, and the other one had two large holes in its superstructure. Both of them had a few dents throughout their surfaces, with broken equipment here and there.

He looked up into the air and noticed a faint dark dot against the clouds. Although the dozen fighter aircraft firing up their engines over at the airfield generated a considerable amount of noise, he could hear a very faint buzzing overheard, indicating an aircraft was in the air.

* * *

><p>A newspaper and a propaganda poster fluttered in the cold smoky wind, before the newspaper fell into the puddle. It was titled:<p>

**Winston Churchill Assassinated!**

A picture of Churchill making the V-sign with his hand was on the front date next to the newspaper's title was 1940, December 29th.

Shortly afterwards, the red-and-white propaganda poster fell into the puddle as well, on top of the newspaper. Its message was:

**Keep Calm and Carry On**

Three tires ran over the soaking newspaper and poster; a fire truck was racing down the street. An elderly woman was calmly brewing tea in a nearby apartment building. Most of the residents had already fled to the air raid shelters or the London Underground; those that were out of luck hid in their apartments.

Thick smoke blanketed a burning London that used to be covered with snow. The lighter yet equally heavy smoke lingered high in the air and blocked out much of the sun. The undamaged air raid sirens were blaring; firefighters and volunteers frantically tried to put out the massive fires raging throughout the city, fueled by an overdose of incendiary bombs dropped by bomber aircraft, and combustible material in every building, especially factories and warehouses.

Two Luftwaffe's dive bombers dove steeply through the air, and one of them dropped their explosive payload onto a group of petrol loaded trains. Two diving British RAF fighter aircraft turned their blazing cannons toward the German aircraft; it exploded into a burning, aerial metal coffin.

The other Luftwaffe bomber went after a munitions production facility, before the cockpit was shredded by another RAF fighter's cannon fire. However, the pilotless bomber continued flying, and ignited hundreds of tons of munitions when it crashed into the facility's warehouse, accomplishing the dead pilot's job.

A Luftwaffe fighter dove for three kills on the British fighters, but the pilot was unaware of an additional RAF fighter gently descending from a distance and lining up its cannons to the German target for a kill as well.

A second Luftwaffe aircraft, with eight small iron crosses painted on the left side of its nose, screamed far overhead at full speed. Six RAF fighters were closing in from above, behind, and the left. Such pilots who dared to boast their glory tended to be the first ones to be targeted and shot out of the sky, especially for ones that racked up lots of kills.

Another Luftwaffe aircraft arrived at a rather low speed; it had simply eaten a shell in the wrong place. The pilot glanced at his blood-splattered instruments. The dual cooling radiators were slowly hemorrhaging water, the lubrication system was losing pressure due to the oil being burned off, the engine was about to run on fumes, and there was only a dozen of ammunition rounds left. He was extremely lucky that none of the Brits had taken notice of his condition; otherwise he would have become another pilot's kill score statistic.

"Oh Daniel, what do I do? I have just enough for one of them. Just one," the third Bf 109 pilot said to himself. He reached down towards the radio to turn it on, but it only sparked and smoked.

_Military equipment is always made by the lowest bidder..._

Several gaping shell holes in the windshield and the blood-soaked seat reminded him of the previous pilot's fate. The pilot had left the cockpit in a literally bloody condition due to his fatal wounds**,** and had died shortly after landing. There had been no time for cleanup. Daniel's other aircraft had received too much damage for a simple patch-up job.

As soon as the brief flashback ended, he took a deep breath before pulling on the stick to guide the aircraft towards the first Luftwaffe fighter aircraft. Although its iron sight wasn't lined up with the enemy aircraft and was dangerously close to the comrade in danger, the spray of missed shots was still close enough to disperse the tailing RAF fighter, thus preventing the British pilot from shooting down a fellow pilot. However, the first Luftwaffe pilot was distracted from the nearby friendly fire, preventing him from scoring kills against the RAF fighters.

"Daniel, you schweinehund," the pilot growled, as he watched his savior fly past and his targets scatter from him.

Overhead, the second Luftwaffe aircraft disappeared in an explosion of burning pieces and fire.

A few days later, the pilot finally snapped while both of them were in an aircraft hangar. "Daniel! Will you stop denying me kills? I could've downed around a dozen enemy aircraft by now, but no, you just have to get in the way, and you've been doing that since day one!" he shouted.

"I'm sorry, Paul, but I don't want to talk about it..." Daniel said.

"You can go join your dead parasitic kommunist Slavic father and untermensch Jewish mother," Paul spat just as Daniel began to turn around to walk away.

"That's unrela-"

Then Daniel paused for a second, interpreting what had just come out of Paul's mouth.

"WHAT did you just say, you trash talking DUMMkopf!"

He spun around and jabbed a finger into Paul's rib, his face flushed with rage. Paul had successfully mashed several hot buttons of a person indoctrinated by years of social pressure and propaganda.

"Oh dear, they're at it again. Where are my earplugs?" a nearby aircraft mechanic said as he fumbled around in his pocket, overhearing the increasingly heated shouting match. Punches were soon traded, and four airfield guards ran toward the commotion to restrain and separate the quarreling pilots.

Daniel would angrily respect Paul's wish during their next bomber escort campaign over Britain for several minutes, before accidentally getting into the wrong place at the wrong time. To add salt to the insult, Daniel was promoted to the rank of a Hauptgefreiter a week later. It didn't help Paul's blood pressure when both of them were later stationed at the same base for a few years.

* * *

><p>In a dimly lit concrete bunker filled with radar equipment, two people were in a room. A calendar was posted on a wall, with Xs on the previous days; it was 1944, April 3rd. The radar station had a dozen monitoring stations; all of them had headpieces for direct communication with aircraft, and two of them had phones that allowed communication with the air command center. During a raid, it was used by a staff of operators to directly communicate with pilots and inform them of where enemy aircraft were headed, which was extremely useful during night time raids. However, when was no suspicion of enemy aircraft showing up, it was usually staffed by two operators just for detection purposes. If the alarm sounded, then all of the monitoring stations quickly filled.<p>

A janitor asked a radar operator, "How many radar engineers does it take to replace a light bulb?"

The first operator ignored the question and the second operator simply shrugged his shoulder. Both of them frowned when their screens suddenly blipped and the bright line that was spinning in a circle disappeared. The stupid system was down, yet again. The second operator face palmed, annoyed by the constant breakdowns.

"One, but the light bulbs always die within minutes after being replaced. Now shut up while I make a call to that lazy, all-brains dummkopf."

* * *

><p>Far up in the sky over the two battleships, a lone Short Sunderland aircraft was stalking the two battleships from the rear. It was a large, long range British patrol aircraft, capable of landing on and taking off from the water, and carrying explosive depth charges for anti-submarine purposes. It was some distance away from the ships, but had managed to get close enough to identify them. Luckily for the aircraft and the crew inside, the rwo ships' rear radar systems had been knocked out during their convoy raid.<p>

"This is Flight Lieutenant Richard of the Royal Air Force. The Bismarck and Tirpitz are sailing towards the Keroman IV base. Based on their damages, I doubt they're going to be leaving anytime soon. The base has a seemingly operational drydock, so it's likely that one of them won't be in the water." he radioed to radio operators stationed on a distant aircraft carrier.

He then looked up over the pilot's head and noticed a squadron of enemy aircraft preparing to take off. Unknowing of their rescue mission and fearing the worst, he ordered the pilot, "All right, turn back and let's get out of here; I think we overstayed our welcome. We don't want to get shot out of the sky, do we?"

* * *

><p>"I need to use the restroom, I'll be right back," the second radar operator said as he got up and left the room.<p>

Less than a minute after, the engineer barged through the concrete bunker's entrance and demanded, "What's the problem?"

"Over here, dummheit!" the first radar operator yelled. Just as the engineer entered the room the operator was in, the radar screen for both stations came back to life.

"Useful usage of everyone's time," the engineer sarcastically noted.

But the radar operator wasn't paying attention. He picked up the phone and dialed the air command center's number.

"This is the radar station. I have not been informed of friendly aircraft entering the airspace, but I am watching an object making a 180 degree turn away from the ships. It appears to be moving towards the west, away from the base at around 300 kilometers per hour, possibly around the same speed of previous reported unidentified objects."

There was a click, followed by a steady tone coming from the phone's speaker.

"Hello? Hello?"

Faint blaring of the air raid sirens echoed through the thick concrete wall, shortly followed by the noise of aircraft taking off.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's notes: <strong>Chapter 5 revised (beta'd) by LaughableBlackStorm.

In real life, the Bismarck was soon crippled and sunk after sinking the Hood and badly damaging the Prince of Wales_. _The Prince of Wales was sunk about six months later in the South China Sea by Japanese torpedo bomber aircraft. The Tirpitz spent much of its time anchored in harbors, with numerous containing British naval forces waiting in the open waters since the British didn't want its supply convoys to go to the bottom of the ocean. Later in the Tirpitz's mostly inactive service history, it was repeatedly attacked by bombing raids until it was finally sunk.

Oh, and Winston Churchill wasn't assassinated.

Terminology (German words):

-AA: (Anti-aircraft)

-Bridge: (Naval term, the ship's room that commands or navigates where the ship will sail)

-Broadside: (Naval term, combat ship's maximum simultaneous firepower that can be delivered on a single target)

-Dummkopf: (A stupid person, a blockhead)

-Gefreiter: (Leading Aircraftman)

-Hauptgefreiter: (Lance Corporal)

-Kommunist: (Communist)

-List: (Naval term, a ship leaning to one side under stable conditions, usually from uneven loading or flooding)

-London Underground: (Underground metro system)

-Luftwaffe: (German air force)

-Mess Hall: (Cafeteria)

-Obergefreiter: (Senior Aircraftman)

-Untermensch: (Sub human, inferior people)

-Unterseeboot: (submarine)

-Schweinehund: (Very derogatory, used as a b-word, literally means pig-dog)

-Superstructure: (Naval term, the tower of the ship that extends above its main deck.)


	6. Chapter Six, Attempting to Gain Trust

**Author's notes: **I would appreciate constructive critiques.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six, Attempting to Gain Trust<strong>

A fish floated up to the surface of the lake, dead from a bullet. Daniel waddled through the water, picked up the fish and headed back to the cave. He noticed that the dragon was perched on top of a rock, looking at him with distrust.

Remembering what it had fired at him in the past, he politely asked, pointing to a clump of branches, "Could you light that pile over there on fire for me?" The dragon eyed the pile and complied by shooting an explosive fireball at it, completely obliterating it and leaving a crater in the ground.

Sighing, Daniel threw a few intact branches on top of a brightly burning one that hadn't been incinerated by the explosion, and blew at it to get the fire going. He stuck the fish on a slightly deformed fork, one of the few utensils that he had scavenged from the burnt wreckage after searching through it again. He sat down on a small rock and slowly rotated the fish over the fire. Unknowingly to him, the flashlight dropped out of his pocket and turned on as soon as it hit the ground.

He noticed the dragon inching closer and asked, "You want the fish?" It jerked back a bit, letting out a warning growl. He ignored it and turned back towards the fire, continuing to cook the fish.

The dragon coughed something up and he couldn't resist turning around to see what was going on. It was spitting out the molar breaker biscuit that Daniel tossed away yesterday, along with a burst of flames, charring it black.

He chuckled a little bit as the dragon struck at the biscuit with one of its paws, sending it skidding towards him. He picked up the warm, carbonized cement biscuit and dropped it into his pocket. When he looked up again, the dragon was at a tree, pawing at a spot on the bark.

Looking down, he identified the cause of the spot of light: the flashlight. He picked it up and swung it around for a while, smiling as the dragon chased after the light beam, then frowned when the flashlight flickered and died.

It stood still in front of Daniel for a short, awkward moment, and then it suddenly opened its toothless mouth.

"Huh, you're zahnlos? I thought you had te-"

The dragon immediately responded; razor-sharp teeth shot out of its gums, and it jogged towards the fireplace. It took a bite of the fish, then pulled it off of Daniel's fork and swallowed it whole.

"Look pal, at least ask for the fish instead of just taking it."

There was a series of regurgitating noises, and then the dragon proceeded to spit a half-eaten fish covered with saliva at him. The fish slapped Daniel in the face before falling back down on his lap.

Confused, he looked up and down between the fish and the dragon. The dragon sat on its haunches, rested its front paws on its hind legs and made a swallowing motion.

Deciding to be polite, he picked up the fish and slowly took a bite, trying to ignore the disgusting, slimy texture while swallowing it. The dragon then made another swallowing motion.

"You want me to eat the entire fish?" he asked, with slight disbelief. The dragon nodded.

"But I don't like undercooked fish," he replied, but the dragon smacked its lips. It would not take 'no' as an answer.

After Daniel had struggled to eat most of the fish, the dragon continued to sit in front of him, though its pupils appeared slightly wider.

Its attitude quickly changed when Daniel scooted closer to it.

Daniel got what the dragon felt was deserved. While he was holding his shoulder in pain after being thrown against the rocky wall, the dragon snarled at him before flying a short distance away and landing across the lake.

_Diplomacy is still in progress._

As he limped out of the cave, he heard a faint buzzing overhead, coming from the opposite direction he had flown in.

_Aircraft! Rescue!_

With a burst of adrenaline, he yanked a sheet of aluminum off his wrecked aircraft and scrambled to gather additional branches and other pieces of wood. He fed them quickly to the fire while fanning it with the aluminum sheet, careful not to extinguish it. The dragon walked towards him, curious about his sudden burst of activity, and then turned its head in alarm when it heard the buzzing. As the noise grew increasingly louder, Daniel's smile grew, until he recognized faint yet distinctive sputtering, coughing and burning noises.

Whatever was flying towards him had engine problems. Serious engine problems.

His smile was quickly replaced by a look of shock when a distant, massive aircraft with British RAF insignias flew low, screaming, over the trees, with trails of flames and smoke billowing behind it.

All four of its engines were aflame, and the entire body was covered with gaping holes; the mid-section was nearly split in half. It wouldn't take long for it to crash land into the cove, as its belly was already scraping against the treetops.

"We're dead if we don't get away from here!" he yelled as he rushed towards the confused dragon and jumped onto its back. The dragon instinctively thrashed around, but recognizing the looming threat, it grudgingly took off.

He ordered, "Don't take off straight into the air; we'll get shredded by metal pieces if it blows apart! Get low and use those rocks and trees for cover!"

For a short time, the dragon refused to comply, but then it dived sharply and flew low over the trees, temporarily leaving Daniel about a meter in the air.

The aircraft lost its momentum and skidded on the trees, and then gravity pulled it down onto the forest's floor, completely tearing apart the wings and stripping away portions of the bottom of the body. It then came to a stop just as about half of it was over the cove's cliff. The front half snapped off at the severely damaged mid-section, throwing a person into the air as it flattened Daniel's wrecked aircraft. Contrary to Daniel's expectation, the aircraft didn't explode.

"Where are we going? Why are we descending towards the water?" Daniel asked after they'd been flying for several minutes. The dragon suddenly flipped upside down, catching him by a surprise.

"This feels familiar..."

He plunged into the water headfirst.

Temporarily disorientated, he kicked his legs and swam up to the surface, gasping for breath. He then headed towards the shore.

As his feet crunched on the gravel in the increasingly shallow water, he noticed the dragon descending towards him with a nonchalant expression on its face. Daniel closed his eyes and relaxed.

_I wonder if the dragon has ever met a pacifist._

The dragon, curious of Daniel's passive behavior, edged closer to him and muzzled his face. Although he was surprised, he decided to keep his eyes closed and not respond.

Then he felt a warm tongue licking his face, covering it in saliva; the thick smell of smoked fish registered in his brain. He opened his eyes, staring straight into the dragon's wide, curious pupils, causing the dragon to back off.

He cautiously reached forward, but it growled sharply in warning. He withdrew his arm, turned around to face the setting sun, and reattempted to reach towards the dragon, this time more slowly.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

He heard the noise of the dragon's teeth coming out of its gums and felt its tongue on his hand, and then something resembling teeth clamping down, hard.

His face turned pale in downright horror as he spun around to face the dragon, which was grinning with its razor teeth exposed. He could've sworn he soiled his pants.

Instead of chomping down fully and severing his hand, it withdrew its teeth and opened its mouth, letting go of Daniel's hand, now covered in saliva.

"Could you give me a ride to somewhere dry?" he asked politely, while rubbing his hand in pain. "The water's cold."

It shook its head, then took off. The answer was no.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's notes<strong>: Chapter 6 revised (beta'd) by LaughableBlackStorm.

Terminology (German):

-Luftwaffe: (German air force)

-Zahnlos: (Toothless)


	7. Chapter Seven, Mood Swing

**Chapter Seven, Mood Swing**

He salvaged a few items from the new wreckage, such as a few cans of tea, meat, vegetables, a package of what appeared to be molar breakers, and a can of eels, and was careful to avoid the disfigured crew of the Short Sunderland aircraft.

After he walked away empty-handed from his last salvage attempt and returned to the cave, he noticed from a distance that there was a smoldering blackened crater where the can of eels used to be. When he entered the cave, he looked at Zahnlos, who had been acting somewhat suspiciously ever since Daniel had brought the can in. The dragon was avoiding the can as if it was the plague or something.

"What did the canned eels ever do to you? Did it kill your family?" he asked as he picked up a piece of cold, terrible bacon from an aluminum sheet serving as a plate and gnawed on it. Zahnlos snorted and trotted outside, and Daniel decided to follow him after chewing on the bacon for a short time.

The dragon was nowhere to be seen. It hadn't taken off, but he didn't hear it climbing up the wall into the forest. However, a small piece of a dark blue scale caught his attention, and looking up, he saw another one near a tree.

As Daniel climbed up the wall, the dragon poked its head out from a bush and then disappeared. For the entire morning, he found himself on a wild goose chase, and eventually realized that they had been going in circles in the forest when he reencountered landmarks, such as unusual trees or the cove.

_Ah, Zahnlos must've been playing some game with me, hmm._

He jumped up and grabbed on to a low hanging tree branch, and proceeded to climb his way up until he was close to the top of the tree, and sat down on one of its branches.

_I'm fairly sure that the dragon is going to come looking for me._

He was proven correct when Zahnlos reappeared a few minutes later. It sniffed around briefly, and then looked up at Daniel with a weak smile.

"You found me, but can you catch me?" he taunted.

It almost immediately responded by taking off vertically up the tree, with its front paws reaching towards him. Knowing what was coming, Daniel quickly turned around, jumped off the branch, and caught on to the dragon's shoulder.

Zahnlos squawked in protest and confusion; it had not expected Daniel to land on its back. Daniel held on to the dragon's shoulder for his dear life and tried to get a grip on its side with his legs.

As they began to fly more horizontally, he readjusted his hands and accidentally held on to its neck too tightly. Zahnlos immediately screeched in protest.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to strangle you," Daniel said as he slackened his grip to appease the dragon.

Suddenly, it spun in a corkscrew, trying to throw Daniel off.

His eyes smarted from the air resistance as Zahnlos struggled to dispose of him, forcing him to pull on his flight goggles. It did not stop him from smiling; he was enjoying the ride. The dragon suddenly stopped spinning and they plummeted through the air until the dragon pulled up and beat its wings hard, then went into a hard dive. It repeated the rising and the diving several times before deciding to do several barrel rolls.

After they flew for a while through the thick white clouds, Daniel realized that they were no longer anywhere close to the island. Below him was just dark blue water.

Then, small blobs of gray came into view below.

By comparing the sizes of the blobs, he estimated there were at least eight battleships or heavy cruisers surrounded by a group of what appeared to be the smaller destroyers. Three of the blobs had large, flat surfaces and were in the center of the group of ships; they were the aircraft carriers.

_What are the Brits doing here?_

A RAF fighter aircraft appeared from above; Daniel had forgotten that the Royal Navy had radars, and Zahnlos was large enough to be detected.

"Zahnlos, let's head back. I don't think we're welcome here," he said as he tugged the dragon to turn left.

The dragon rolled its eyes and complied. The aircraft circled around them a few times before flying away; Daniel could imagine the pilot trying to explain to everyone else what he had seen, and then receiving the straitjacket treatment.

When the Royal Navy's fleet was out of sight, Daniel pulled right on the dragon's neck until the sun was behind them. He then began to mumble the Dicta Boelcke mindlessly to himself. He had religiously studied it since he was in Hitlerjugend. It was a list of fundamental aerial combat maneuvers, and many pilots that failed to obey by it did not last very long in hostile air.

"Try to secure an advantage over your opponent before attacking. If possible, keep the sun behind you."

He pressed down as Zahnlos smirked, and they descended through a thick cloud. The island was becoming visible again.

"Always continue with an attack you have begun."

A distinctive rock formation appeared; they were back at the island.

"Open fire only at close range, and then only when the opponent is squarely in your sights."

Zahnlos spat a fireball as they neared the rocks, and they exploded upon impact. A red-hot rock whizzed past Daniel's head, but he ignored it and instead briefly, gently scratched the dragon's head.

"You should always try to keep your eye on your opponent, and never let yourself be deceived by ruses."

He pointed at a lone seagull, then proceeded to nudge Zahnlos to fly away from it and into a large cloud.

When they emerged from the other side, he abruptly demanded, "Where's the bird?"

Zahnlos didn't respond. After waiting for a few seconds, Daniel attempted to imitate the seagull's call. The dragon rolled its eyes before sharply turning around and pointing its head at the now-distant seagull. Daniel gave another gentle scratch, this time under its chin.

"In any type of attack, it is essential to assail your opponent from behi—"

Zahnlos suddenly seized up in the air and fell asleep; they plummeted towards the water like lead weights. "Ah, oh dear, uh, WAKE UP!" he shouted as he forced open Zahnlos's eyes. As the water became increasingly closer, the dragon shook its head briefly and started to beat its wings hard.

"If your opponent dives on you, do not try to get around his attack, but fly to meet it."

He then pulled up and left, guiding the dragon into a slanted semi-circle and back up into the air.

As the sight of the island came closer, Zahnlos dived towards a distant field of large rock pillars. Daniel pulled on its neck, but the dragon refused to comply.

"Are you sure we should go through it?" he asked.

Zahnlos didn't respond, but Daniel quickly knew the answer, since the dragon did not avoid the rocky pillars. He took a deep breath and leaned hard to the right to avoid one of the first pillars. They proceeded to nick a few of them, but they were fine, until they hit the last one.

The scar on Zahnlos's face scraped against the rough rocky surface. Zahnlos shuddered and whined. Noticing something odd with the dragon, Daniel gently guided it to a nearby sandy beach and got off immediently.

There was obviously something wrong with Zahnlos when they landed on the beach; the dragon aimlessly stared out at the sea; there appeared to be no life in its eyes. He could tell it was exhibiting something like shell-shock, but he wasn't quite sure what had caused it.

Zahnlos soon started shaking its head, moving around unsteadily and whimpering.

"What's wrong, Zahnlos?" he asked in confusion and helplessness as the dragon's behavior progressively became erratic. "Just calm down, everything is going to be okay..." He reached out towards Zahnlos's head.

He would learn the hard way that reaching for a distressed dragon's head was a bad idea.

Zahnlos responded to Daniel's seemingly threatening move by letting out a roar. Its pupils narrowed, full of murderous intentions. Daniel took a few steps back.

_Well, this is going to be a good day..._

Zahnlos lunged towards him, and he immediately dived forward under the dragon. He quickly got up, but the dragon immediately spun around and was about to take a bite out of him when he threw sand in its face. It yelped and backed off temporarily, but then let out a high pitched screech and lunged at Daniel again.

He was caught off guard while holding his ringing ears in pain when Zahnlos pounced on top of him. He gritted his teeth as the dragon sank its teeth into his left arm, and proceeded to hit it in the head with a rock gripped in his right hand before its teeth could damage more than just the skin.

Zahnlos staggered off of him. Unaware of his killer instinct resurfacing, Daniel nailed it in the head again by throwing the rock, harshly kicked at the dragon's belly and threw several rapid punches at its side, causing it to stumble and fall over on its side. He picked up the rock again and held it over the dragon's head, ready for a finishing blow.

Something clicked in his mind, and he tossed the rock away. He sat down next to the dragon and gently rubbed its neck and head. Pumping enemy aircraft full of high velocity shells without mercy or hesitation was one thing; killing a friend was another, even if he or she went berserk.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you, Zahnlos. Remember our friendship that we agreed to?" he softly asked.

The dragon suddenly got up and swiftly pinned Daniel to the ground. It stared at him for several seconds, then its pupils widened a little before it backed off of him and flew away. He got up and watched as Zahnlos flew away, and then torn off one of his shirt's sleeves to use as a bandage for his bleeding arm.

Far overheard, about four dozen aircraft buzzed in the air, flying towards the general direction of the Keroman IV base. About half of them were significantly more spread out in a U-shape and far ahead of the rest. The slower half was split into two loosely separated groups.

They were not the Luftwaffe.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's notes: <strong>Chapter 7 revised (beta'd) by LaughableBlackStorm.

Terminology (German words):

-Hitlerjugend: (Hitler Youth, a paramilitary organization for 14-18 years old boys)

-Luftwaffe: (German air force)

-Zahnlos: (Toothless)


	8. Chapter Eight, Life is Unfair

**Chapter Eight, Life is Unfair**

It was getting dark and cold when he arrived back at the cove, but the dragon wasn't around. However, there was a fire burning.

_Huh, he must've been nice enough to light it for me._

As he opened his canteen to take a drink, his attention was diverted to the sight of an opened can of corned beef and tea, and a metal teapot that had been recently tipped over. If Zahnlos really wanted the beef and tea, he wouldn't have taken a knife to it. And where had the teapot come from?

Then, there was the unmistakable sound of a firearm's hammer being pulled back.

He immediately dropped the canteen, spun around and drew out his pistol. Two simultaneous gunshots echoed throughout the cave with somewhat different pitches. A bird fluttered out of a nearby tree as two people dropped to the ground.

Ignoring the wound from the bullet that had grazed his arm, he cautiously inched towards the hostile who was wearing a RAF officer cap.

_I nailed him in the chest, but is he still alive? I don't want to waste another bullet on him._

Unexpectedly, the officer picked up the teapot and threw it at Daniel's head, knocking him to the ground. The officer yelled, "You Jerries killed my entire family during the Blitz, and then killed my entire crew! And as if that wasn't bad enough, you bloody twats also killed Winston Churchill! Go to hell!"

Daniel didn't understand a word the man had said since he had never studied English, but he knew the Brit was not happy to meet him. He replied, "Nein! Nein!", as both of them aimed their weapons at each other.

"Ja! Ja!" the RAF officer shouted back in broken German.

Two more gunshots echoed through the cave. The officer missed, again. Daniel didn't miss, again.

Thinking that the officer was dead for good, Daniel walked out of the cave. The officer grabbed onto his leg with one hand. Daniel looked down and noticed the officer's other hand was holding...

A grenade, with its pin missing.

Everything seemed to be in slow motion for him as he struggled to break free of the officer's increasingly slacking grip. Eventually he was able to run for cover after stomping on the officer's face a few time with his free foot.

After several minutes of waiting behind a rock, Daniel cautiously tip-toed back to the cave, ready to shoot again if the officer came back to life again. He picked up the grenade from the dead officer's hand and threw it into the center of the lake.

_Well, it's comforting to know that the grenade was a dud._

The grenade suddenly detonated shortly after making contact with the water, covering him with a spray of water. A few pieces of shrapnel barely missed him.

Next to the Short Sunderland aircraft's crash landing path above the cove, Zahnlos's eyes were filled with distrust after watching the diplomatic meltdown unfold. He got up from his sitting position and flew away.

* * *

><p>Oily shadows of people and a certain street appeared, soon followed by details. Some of the stores' windows were broken; many of them had hateful graffiti painted on their walls. A shadow of a van appeared and two men with Sturmabteilung armbands were shoving another man into it. A young girl was on her knees, pleading, "Please don't take Papa away. I promise I won't be a Jew anymore."<p>

In the background, on another street, two buildings were burning. Firefighters were only putting out the blaze for one of the buildings; the other one that was left to its incineration was a synagogue. A police officer was yelling at a group of civilians that had participated in the destruction, "You dummkopfs! If there's a non-Jewish property next to the targeted building, take a sledgehammer or use dynamite! You could've cooked your own people!"

After the two Sturmabteilungs slammed the van's doors shut, one of them responded to the girl's plea by kicking at her, yelling every anti-semitic word or phrase he could think of. Der Führer would've been very proud of him.

As the crowd cheered on, a teenager in a Hitlerjugend uniform was standing still, somewhat outside of the crowd, then walked away. The other Sturmabteilung took notice and stopped him.

"Hey, it's a little bit hard to break stones with your fists, isn't it?" he asked as he shoved a sledgehammer into the teenager's hands. "Go serve your country proudly, and don't let Der Führer down."

The teenager smiled weakly and quickly left the scene. Suddenly, there was commotion among the crowd. A elderly man had stepped in the defend the girl.

"Daniel, stop idling around and get rid of this old untermensch, he's being an annoyance! Ah, never mind, the crowd got him."

An old poster plastered to a nearby wall warned, "Germans! Defend yourselves! Do not buy from Jews."

* * *

><p>The next morning, Daniel woke up to the noise of someone singing a very off-tune song. Peeking outside of his cave, he recognized Anton.<p>

"Morning, Anton," he said.

Anton twitched and turned around in surprise. "Daniel, is that you? We thought you slept with the fishes!"

Daniel couldn't help laughing a little, then asked, "How did you get here?"

Anton replied, "The Brits have renewed their attack, and most of their bombers seem to prefer to hit our naval facilities and two battleships. Thankfully the ships didn't take too much damage. I was chasing two of their fleeing aircraft by myself when their reinforcements showed up. Good thing the radio wasn't that badly beaten up. What happened to you?"

"Engine died."

"Wow, I was expecting a lot more than that."

"Wait, you said two battleships are docked at our base?"

"The Bismarck and the Tirpitz. Based on the rumors I heard from the crew, they had recently sunk a large convoy and made a run for it after alerting the Royal Navy horde."

"When is rescue coming?"

"Around today, assuming the tug boat doesn't get a proper royal treatment and become another group of fish's playpen. Wait, is that a dead RAF officer over there?"

"Long story, but I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, if you don't mind, I'm going to take a souvenir from him," Anton replied as he begin to walk towards the corpse.

"I do mind. No looting."

"What?"

"You heard me. I'm a Hauptgefreiter, you are a Gefreiter**. **I'm two ranks higher than you."

"I'll loot anyways. I don't mind a small disciplinary action."

"I'm not going roughen you up and hope that you think about your actions. I'm going to put you in the hospital with my fists once we get back and hope that you think about your action."

"I am so scared," Anton sarcastically replied.

"One of these days, they're going to put you in front of a firing squad, and I bet you're going to try and use your 'Go to Jail' card to avoid termination."

"Hah, like that's ever going to happen."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's notes: <strong>Chapter 8 revised (beta'd) by LaughableBlackStorm.

The section where Daniel and the RAF officer shouted at each other was based off of a third-hand source of someone telling a WWII veteran's story.

_My high school had this great set of WWII books, and I can remember this one story from a veteran that, for whatever reason, has stuck with me. He and his unit had assaulted a German airfield. "We were running around securing the hangars. I passed the door to an office and kicked it open. I tossed in a grenade and the Jerry behind the desk caught it and shouted, "Nein! Nein!" I yelled, "Ja! Ja!" and slammed the door shut."_

Daniel's flashback took place during Kristallnacht, also as known as Night of Broken Glass. It was two days of nationwide coordinated attacks and riots against Jewish people and buildings, carried out by the Sturmabteilung and many non-Jewish civilians. The event occurred in Nazi Germany and parts of Austria, during November 9-10th of 1938.

Also, there is a reference to the film Hotel Rwanda. Specifically in the flashback.

Terminology (German words):

-Der Führer: (The Leader, aka, Adolf Hitler)

-Dummkopf: (A stupid person, a block head)

-Hauptgefreiter: (Lance Corporal)

-Hitlerjugend: (Hitler Youth, a paramilitary organization for 14-18 years old boys)

-Nein: (No)

-Ja: (Yes)

-Sturmabteilung: (SA, aka brownshirts. Paramilitary organization)

-Synagogue: (A Jewish church)

-Untermensch: (Sub human, inferior people)


	9. Chapter Nine, Conspiracy and Crises

**Chapter Nine, Conspiracy and Crises**

"Well Daniel, I don't think you have anything serious, so you should be fine," the doctor said in a thick Swedish accent as he looked at an X-ray photo of Daniel's ribcage.

_Should I tell him what I saw on the island?_

"Just out of curiosity, what was it like living on that island for more than three weeks?"

"Eh, nothing interesting. Crashed landed, explored a bit, confronted a large bird, lived in a cave, survived on fish, and met a Brit pilot," Daniel responded.

"Did you befriend him?" the doctor jokingly asked.

"Nah, he shot at me, and then pulled a grenade after I fired back. Besides, he landed directly on top of my crashed plane."

"Sounds uninteresting," the doctor sarcastically replied.

"Dr. Bergenstråhle, I have a question," Daniel said.

"Yes?"

"Who's that in the photo?" Daniel asked, pointing at a family picture hanging on the wall. "I just noticed it."

"The two kids on the right were my siblings; the one on the left is me."

"Where's your father?"

"He was away on some expedition when the photo was taken. He never came back; the government said he went missing somewhere in Africa. I don't believe any of it; I recall seeing my father pack clothing and equipment that would have been more appropriate for the cold and the ocean. My poor mother, after waiting for him for three years, she..."

Dr. Bergenstråhle stammered on the last word, and as he left the office at a brisk pace, he said, "If you'd excuse me, I forgot to do something. You're free to leave my office."

Puzzled at the doctor's behavior, Daniel walked up to the photograph and took a closer look. A date was written at the bottom left corner of it.

_1904, January 22nd. Huh, I never expected to meet a family member of one of those poor Swedish folks._

* * *

><p>"Hauptmann Fritz!" Paul yelled at a significantly larger and more muscular man.<p>

"What is it, Obergefreiter Struve?"

"I need to talk to you privately. Can you come with me?" Paul politely asked, pointing towards an alley between two buildings before walking towards it. Hauptmann Fritz followed Paul without saying a word.

When they were in the alley, Paul asked Gefreiter Ludendoff, "What's your first name again?"

"Kevin," he replied.

"Ah, I remember there was a boy who also had that name. He was in the Hitlerjugend, but I do believe his grandmother was killed for being a Jew, his grandfather was arrested for assisting a Jew, and his mother was accused of being a member of the Kommunistische Partei Deutschlands. How he wasn't put on the Gestapo's watch list and barred from the military still puzzles me today."

"I don't understand what you are talking about," Kevin replied with in a calm, monotone voice.

"And I do believe that I'm looking at an adult version of this boy, right...now," Paul threateningly noted, jabbing his finger into Kevin's ribs.

Paul got the firsthand experience of watching someone shift from a calm mood to rage overdrive within less than a second.

Kevin immediately grabbed onto Paul's shirt, yanked him off his feet, and slammed him against the concrete wall several times.

"But I'm willing to keep quiet, if you do a small favor for me."

"You dare to play with me?! I crushed French resistance fighters' skulls during the invasion of France, with my bare hands!" Kevin angrily warned while smashing his fist right next to Paul's face against the wall and breathing down on him.

"Oh, it's nothing serious. You handle patrol duty?"

"Yes. Why are you asking that?"

"You know Daniel and Anton, who arrived back here a week ago after both of them crash landed on an island?"

"Hauptgefreiter Eisenhauer and Gefreiter Schäfer?"

"I need you to..."

* * *

><p>As Daniel awoke up from his sleep, he heard a loud thud and glass shattering. "Bombing raid!" he screamed as he dashed out of the barracks while putting on his clothing. All of the other pilots immediately woke up and also made a mad dash for the exits.<p>

There was a thick, black smoke trail tumbling from the headquarters building.

From the window of Oberstleutnaut Schleicher's bedroom.

"I don't think the Brits would drop only one bomb. And that explosion looks pretty small for a standard aircraft's bomb," Anton commented.

"No, it can't be. I can't think of anyone who would want him dead."

"Brit spy?"

"Seems like it, though I doubt they would be stupid enough to send an agent on a one-way mission against an insignificant officer. This is an island where everyone knows each other, tough luck getting out."

* * *

><p>During lunch, essentially everyone was talking about the explosion. There wasn't much information on what exactly had happened.<p>

"I'm not feeling that hungry, I'll see you guys later," Daniel said as he got up and walked away with his tray.

"Maybe we can talk about what we plan on doing after the war is over," Anton recommended.

"I think we've talked about that at least five times since last year," Paul bitterly shot back.

"Awww, does sweet little Paul miss his mommy?" Anton cheerfully mocked, spitting out little bits of his stew.

However, before Paul could respond, he was cut off when two guards, the same ones that had locked up Anton earlier, arrived at the table with four additional guards behind them.

"Hello, what brings you here? I don't recall pulling another pran—" Anton was about to finish when he was suddenly handcuffed.

"You are under arrest for treason, the assassination of Oberstleutnaut Schleicher to be precise."

The entire mess hall became quiet as everyone stared at the pilot being escorted out of the room. Paul ignored the commotion as he continued to eat his standard disgusting meal.

* * *

><p>There was the sharp sound of a pistol being disassembled on a wooden board. As Daniel cleaned and oiled the internal parts, he reflected on what he had experienced on the island. Befriending possibly the only dragon alive, a species that was supposed to be non-existent, was far from ordinary.<p>

_"I should stop thinking about this. I'm in a warzone, anyways. Maybe I'll look for it again after all of this is over, assuming I get to go home with a pulse."_

As he put the gun back together, the firing pin rolled off the board, fell to the ground, and became jammed between the bed and the wall. Before he could climb back down from his bunk bed, two guards entered the barracks.

"Hauptgefreiter Eisenhauer, could you come with us?" one of them asked.

Daniel complied, and as the guards escorted him out of the barracks, he noticed Paul smirk at him before walking away.

_Paul, what have you done?_

* * *

><p>"Now's a good time to put your tricks to work. You got out of detention twice, didn't you?" Daniel asked, looking out of the barred window, which was covered with barbed wires. It was already getting dark.<p>

"When do you think they're coming back?" Anton replied with a question.

"I don't know; it's not the first time they've suddenly stopped their bombing run to resume it at an unexpected time. Maybe they're planning something big for us. Anyways, back to the topic, please?"

"Eh, I don't feel so well. It's the stew, I bet," Anton complained, holding his stomach in pain.

"You look a little green."

"And you look like you need to use the restroom, immediately. Now stop reminding me of my pain," Anton shot back.

A steel door that divided the jail cells' section from the warden's front desk opened. A doctor in a white coat came running through the door and towards Daniel and Anton's cell, with two guards trailing behind.

"What's the rush, doc?" Anton asked.

"Food poisoning. You two are one of the unfortunate ones who ate from the bad batch."

"I didn't know that we had to make sure murderers are healthy before their execution," one of the guards said, while the other unlocked the door.

As Anton attempted to comprehend what the doctor had said, he heard Daniel vomiting. Then, Anton noticed everything was going black as the dirty floor raced up to his face.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's notes:<strong> Most of Chapter 9 revised (beta'd) by LaughableBlackStorm.

Terminology (German):

-Hauptgefreiter: (Lance Corporal)

-Oberstleutnaut: (Lieutenant Colonel)


	10. Chapter Ten, Unexpected Welcoming

**Author's note:** The original Chapter Two has been combined with the new Chapter 10. The original Chapter 10 was moved down to Chapter 9, Ch 9 to Ch 8, and so on. Only Ch 1 remains unaffected.

If you have already read the original Chapter Two, you can skip to the new story lines towards the bottom of this page.

I would also appreciate comments on about this story restructuring, and the new stuff added in this chapter.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Ten, Unexpected Welcoming<strong>

"Oh, by the way, we MIGHT plan on using you as a punching bag after school. Enjoy the rest of your day," a bully sitting next to the young boy snickered.

The boy had been having a miserable time in school for the past several weeks. He had seen the three notorious bullies pick on other kids for months, but lately they'd decided to gang up on him. He knew they were going to go after him as soon as he stepped off the school grounds. When the dismissal bell rang, all of the kids cheerfully gathered up their schoolwork and raced out of the classroom. Except for the boy.

"Is there a problem?" the teacher asked. "You seem worried."

"No, I'm fine," the boy lied as he slowly left the classroom. He looked around; the bullies were probably waiting outside. The hallway, like the rest of the school, had an old concrete floor with plaster walls and ceiling, which were all chipped and cracked. Everything inside the school seemed to be decaying, just like the rest of the country. As he walked down the hallway, he thought about how he was going to escape from the bullies, and then decided that he was going to stand up to them to see if they would back off.

After he stepped outside of the school building and walked past the rusting flagpole that had a faded and limp flag with black, red and yellow stripes on it, he looked behind him and noticed three boys walking his way at a brisk pace.

"I'm not scared of you wimps!" the boy shouted.

"Eh, we'll see about that. I say a broken nose and you'll end up running," one of the bullies sneered.

Fear and panic overwhelmed the boy's mind. Forgetting his original plan, he ran down the street and entered an alley, his feet crunching on the gravel. The three bullies were unsurprisingly pursuing him and occasionally shouting at him; they liked beating up weaker kids, but they didn't like fast ones.

The boy passed a group of kids that was playing and building stuff, not with blocks or toys, but with dozens of large bundles of extremely devalued Weimar Republic's currency. As he crossed a crowded narrow street to enter another alley, he ran past French and Belgian soldiers who were marching down the street towards a large group of increasingly violent protestors. He had never understood what the foreign soldiers were doing in the city, but he did know for sure that protests against them were not uncommon since many of the locals weren't very happy about their presence.

As he entered another street, he saw a cart full of paper money and liquid adhesives parked in front of the city of Dortmund's post office; inside the office were two workers plastering the money to the walls. It would've cost more to buy wallpaper than to use the paper money. A bakery next to the alley had had loafs of bread on sale since yesterday, at 2 billion marks per loaf, and the baker was now replacing the sale signs with new ones—2.9 billion marks per loaf. At a nearby factory, workers were being let out early so they could purchase goods before the runaway hyperinflation made their wages worthless later in the afternoon.

He accidentally tripped over a ragged beggar sitting on the sidewalk. "Please, I need food. I haven't eaten..." the man pleaded, his eyes on the verge of crying. The boy, without stopping to listen or apologize, as he had a much bigger concern, got up and entered an abandoned apartment. The bullies gave the same amount of attention and sympathy to the homeless man as he had. The weathered main entrance door of the apartment had pro-Communist propaganda on the outside of it, posted by the local Kommunistische Partei Deutschlands. To the right of it was a Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei's propaganda poster. A tattered, weathered and decaying WWI propaganda poster was lying on the ground in a muddy puddle, recently pulled off the wall. The boy ran up the stairs to the rooftop and backed himself into a corner as the group slowed down and slowly walked toward their victim, grinning evilly at him.

"What do we do with this fast punching bag? This thing owes me a broken nose," the first bully said.

"Obviously we're going to treat him as a friend! That's what we came here for, right?" the second bully sarcastically replied.

"I came here to have fun, not to have a boring talk," the third bully said and he viciously punched the boy in the nose. A sickening crunch was heard; the boy's nose was broken and blood was running down his face.

The young boy cried out in pain as the bullies took turns roughing him up and verbally attacking him. A few minutes later, they walked away satisfied. The boy waited for ten to twenty minutes before slowly getting up and walking down the apartment's stairs. He would have to create a very long explanation for his parents, and would need a lot more explanations for the future, as the bullying wasn't going to stop any time soon.

When the second bully returned home, he walked through the kitchen and past a refrigerator with line after line of zeros written on the side. He overheard his mother ask in the living room, "Honey, why did you include several zeros for our address on your letter to your brother?"

His father, an accountant with an unusually large amount of gray hair for a man in his early forties, screamed, "I don't know! I can't handle all of the calculating and recalculating every hour! I can't tell the difference between nine and nine billion! A cup of coffee yesterday at noon cost 600 million marks, and as soon as I finished drinking the coffee, it went up to 900 million!" Then he broke into violent sobs.

His mother tried to calm down his father without much success as he tiptoed past them and to his room, locking the door behind him. He felt distant from his parents; they were on the edge of a breakdown every day from the terrible economy, and showed no signs of improving; it would only be a matter of time before their marriage broke up. They rarely talked to him because they were preoccupied, and he rarely talked to them in fear of becoming as insane as they were.

As he lay on his bed and stared at the toy model plane dangling from the ceiling, he wondered how and when everything had gone so terribly wrong, before falling asleep.

* * *

><p>A whitewashed room came into focus in Daniel's sight, with an air raid siren blaring, somewhat muffled by the concrete.<p>

"_To say that my situation went bad would be a tad understatement…Anyways, how long have I been asleep?"_

He looked at the locked steel door and realized he was in the prison hospital.

There was a sudden loud thud, with bits of dust falling from the ceiling. Before his brain acknowledged it, a massive shockwave ripped through the facility. He rolled out of bed just as the wall collapsed on top of it.

Daniel looked outside through the new hole, and noticed several aircraft in the distance flying away.

"An air raid. How expected." Daniel commented, before crawling through the hole.

A 1000 lb. bomb crashed a few meters away from him but failed to detonate. For obvious reasons he immediately started sprinting away.

* * *

><p>"This is Big Sky 1. The package has failed to hit the target."<p>

"Big Sky 1, return back to base after you are done dropping the other bombs."

An 88mm shell proceeded to tear through the leading Avro Lancaster that dropped the package, and exploded shortly afterward, opening a large hole next to the cockpit and sending the plane spiraling downward with its dead crew (except for the poor machine gunners stuck in the mid-upper or tail sections). The other three aircraft in the box formation continued to fly on, receiving occasional flak rounds and dropping bombs in return. There were also two other B-17 box formations accompanying the Avro Lancasters.

A ME 262 closed onto the formation from the side, with Franz Köster in the seat.

"Ein Füllhorn!" he joyfully yelled as he hit a switch and a R4M rocket was launched from the left wing, almost splitting an unlucky B-17 in half and sending it into a nose dive. The escorting fighter aircraft P-51 Mustangs' pilots recognized the ME 262 and shook their heads. There was nothing they could do about a plane that could simply outrun them if threatened, except for shooting it when it's taking off, landing, or parking on the tarmac.

The R4M rocket attacks would continue until no Avro Lancasters or B-17s remained, and the three bombers that weren't shot down by rockets were given a proper German flak squads' welcoming, which was rather lethal.

* * *

><p>"Sir, the Tallboy bomb has failed to hit the rocket facility. Our bombers also suffered a 100% casualty rate."<p>

"Assemble the US and British navy, airforce, and marines. I want rubble to be bouncing around the clock during our operation. And if that facility still doesn't go down, then we're going to have to take the entire base by force."

* * *

><p>Daniel spent the next hour cautiously darting from bush to bush towards the abandoned rocket facility. He knew the path from the facility to the prison had the least amount of guards or traffic compared to other paths, such as one directly from the prison hospital to the prison. But he still had to play it safe, as detection would've resulted in a quick recapture.<p>

The backdoor creaked too much for his likings when he opened it. After closing it and walking through the hallway, he noticed something odd.

There were several fresh footprints and a cart's wheel tracks on the dusty floor. It was also apparent that something was hanging out of the cart and was dragged along the floor.

He heard a familiar noise in the rocket testing lab. Opening the double doors, his eyes widened at a large figure chained up to a locked down cart.

"Zahnlos. What are you doing here?"

But then someone behind him spoke.

"Daniel. What are you doing here as well? I thought you were in the prison. Or was killed by that absurdly large bomb that landed next to it."

Daniel spun around to face a confused guard pointing a rifle at his chest.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> The mental disorder mentioned in the flashback is called Zero stroke. This chapter is based off of Germany's hyperinflation in the 1920s and the occupation of Ruhr, a major industrial region bordering France and Belgium. Germany had defaulted on its heavy war reparations, and France and Belgium sent in their military to force Germany to pay up.

Terminology (German words):

- Ein Füllhorn: (A Cornucopia)

-Kommunistische Partei Deutschlands: (Communist Party of Germany)

-Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei: (National Socialist German Workers' Party, Nazi)

-Weimar Republic: (Successor of pre-WWI Germany, predecessor to Nazi Germany or Third Reich)

-Tallboy: A 12,000 lb. WWII bunker-buster/earthquake-bomb. Very effective against German fortifications by either punching through concrete (blowing up inside the bunker) or damaging the entire structure through shockwaves. They were also used to disable and later sink the battleship Tirpiz. The tea-drinking Brits later decided that they needed a bigger 22,000 lb. bunker buster, named "Grand Slam".


	11. Chapter Eleven, Grudge

**Chapter Eleven, Grudge  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Daniel asked, "Um, just freeing the dragon?"<p>

"I don't think I can allow that…", the guard replied.

"He's my friend."

"What?"

"It's a long story."

"And the bombing of Oberstleutnaut Schleicher's bedroom?"

"You know better than that."

"Orders are orders…"

"That's not an acceptable answer. I know you're aware that I was framed, and that you're concerned about also being arrested."

"I'd rather not risk eating bullets and forever being known as the guy who helped a person marked as a traitor."

"I'll hit you in the head hard enough to leave a large bruise. Then you can claim that I knocked you out."

"Still, you're going to release a goddamn _dragon_. I'll bet you a bottle of schnaps that the AA gun crews are going to shoot at it immediately."

"Wait, where did you get it from?"

"All I know it arrived chained up in a cage off of a boat. Dr. Bergenstråhle pulled some strings to get a boat and some crew members for a short 'expedition'."

A gunshot ranged from the hallway, a hole appeared in the door, and the guard crumpled to the ground, screaming "MAMA!"

Daniel dashed forward, picked up the guard's rifle, and ran behind cover, narrowly missing two bullets. Dr. Bergenstråhle calmly walked into the room, firing another round at Daniel.

"Dr. Bergenstråhle, how did you figure out where the…"

"A person's nervous system can be his liability. You were muttering things after you passed out, and I took interest in it."

"So what do you plan on doing with Zahnlos?"

"Aww… That's so cute, you gave a reptile monster a name. A shame that I'm going to dissect it, alive, without any anesthetic."

"He's the last dragon alive."

"That makes it even better."

"Why?"

"Didn't I tell you? Father died. Mother died. Family broke up. You really think I'm going to forgive a mindless species that wreaked my life?

"I came across several diaries left behind by a Swedish squad tasked with killing the dragons, and I do believe your father was a member of it."

"And?"

"The point is that someone told the squad to kill the dragons. And there were gold nuggets in the cave, and of course lots of dead American miners sharing the field of death. I know you can put the dots together."

"That doesn't matter. Your friend is going to die, and you're going to also die from the firing squad."

"What would you do if someone wanted to suffocate you to death by igniting piles of explosives and triggering a cave-in? Everyone has the survival instincts, and it only takes a bit of misunderstanding to turn it into a cycle of cruelty."

"I... don't... CARE!"

"Then what do you care, other than killing the dragon?"

Dr. Bergenstråhle stood silently.

Daniel then filled in the silence, "Every man has a choice. To either go home as a man, or as a murderer."

Dr. Bergenstråhle threw a key at Daniel, then walked over and hit a button. A massive steel sliding door on ceiling opened, originally meant for firing test rockets.

"Take it, undo the locks on the chains, and get out of here before I change my mind."

"Please point your gun away from me."

"Fair enough."

Daniel looked at Dr. Bergenstråhle briefly before picking up the key and walking towards Zahnlos. When the locks started to fall off one by one, the dragon's head perked up. Before he was finished undoing the locks and chains, it screeched, snapped the remaining chains and locks, and hurdled towards Dr. Bergenstråhle.

"Zahnlos! NO! STOP!" Daniel yelled, as Dr. Bergenstråhle pointed his pistol at the incoming dragon. But before he pulled the trigger, the dragon abruptly stopped and turned around to look at Daniel.

"Come on. Let's get out of here."

Daniel climbed onto the dragon's back, and nudged it to get Zahnlos to start flying. He then looked back as they lifted into the heavily cloudy air through the opened ceiling, and saw Dr. Bergenstråhle walking away, dragging the wounded guard with him.

The doctor then suddenly started firing at Daniel and the dragon, though missed all of the shots while ranting, "I have no home, because the entire neighborhood was leveled! And all I'm going to face is a bunch of starving, hobo people, and foreign soldiers stationed everywhere, if I ever get off of this island without sleeping with the fishes! I hate smooth talking motivational speakers like you!"

* * *

><p>Daniel was about to relax when he noticed something ongoing below at the base.<p>

A firing squad, and someone was tied up to the pole.

_Anton!_

"Dive Zahnlos! To there!" Daniel urgently pointed.

* * *

><p>"Former Gefreiter Schäfer, you have been charged with dozens of minor offenses, destruction of military property, and most importantly, treason and murder by fragging your commanding officer. Do you have any last words?"<p>

"Could you send someone over to get something out of my left pocket and read it? Trust me, it's not a bomb."

The officer looked to the side, and motioned one of the firing squad members to walk over to Anton. He then pulled out a reddish-brown card.

* * *

><p><em>275 meters!<em>

* * *

><p>The soldier read, "Go Directly to Jail. Do not pass Go. Do not collect 200 dollars."<p>

"Return back to your position." The officer ordered.

* * *

><p><em>200 meters!<em>

* * *

><p>When the soldier returned back to the line, the officer yelled, "Ready!"<p>

* * *

><p><em>125 meters!<em>

* * *

><p>"Level!"<p>

* * *

><p><em>50 meters!<em>

* * *

><p>"Fire!"<p>

* * *

><p>Daniel watched in horror as Anton shuddered and slumped over.<p>

"It's too late Zahnlos, pull up!"

The officer and everyone in the firing squad watched in amazement and confusion as an dragon swooped over them.

And then the air raid sirens blared.

There was an unwritten rule among the anti-air gunners, that if it's big, flying, and it doesn't have German markings on it. Shoot it. If it looks strange, shoot it more.

"Never mind! Get down, use the buildings as cover!"

Zahnlos rolled its eyes, signaling to Daniel, "Down, up, which is it?" as it dove down again until it was just above the pavement.

Many of the AA crews couldn't get a clear sight onto the dragon due to obstructing buildings, but one crew had a clear line of sight.

Daniel refused to look behind him as large chunks of concrete were blasted out of the surrounding buildings by a determined quadruple 40mm AA gunner. However, it proved to be difficult for the gunner to track the target since he had never engaged an aircraft that flew just above the ground, thus almost all of the shots were behind by a second or so. A glass was also heard being shattered, shortly followed by someone loudly swearing to kill whoever ruined their last peppermint schnaps bottle.

Then there were explosions everywhere. But the explosions weren't caused by bomber aircraft.

Over 20 battleships, battlecruisers, and cruisers were blindly bombarding the island base before prioritizing various targets, and the Germans never noticed that a naval fleet was sitting in their harbor due to the heavy fog and the still-broken radar until it was too late. The large, heavily fortified anti-ship artillery guns quickly responded back at the locations of the naval guns' flashes, unknowingly revealing their location to incoming allied aircraft.

Dive bombers soon appeared, all of them attempting to target the anti-ship batteries and the airfield. Several fighter aircraft also dove to apply suppressive fire on the AA guns and draw their attention from the dive bombers. Many of the aircraft were turned into falling, burning scrap metal by the AA guns, but it didn't stop them from causing more destruction, nor did it stop a fresh wave of approaching aircraft.

As Daniel and Zahnlos exited the field of buildings now unopposed (as the AA crews decided the allied bombers were a larger threat than the dragon) and flew across the harbor, he noticed Paul at the docks, who was staring back at him, before running off to the airfield for deployment.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's notes:<strong>

Terminology (German words):

-Hauptgefreiter: (Lance Corporal)

-Oberstleutnaut: (Lieutenant Colonel)

-Schnaps: Strong alcoholic beverage


	12. Chapter Twelve, Orderly Chaos

**Chapter Twelve, Orderly Chaos**

"This is Charlie Six, the straw man is in sight."

"You are clear to drop the package when you reach the straw man."

"Acknowledged."

The heavily modified Avro Lancaster carrying the Grand Slam, a 22,000 lb big brother of the Tallboy, was riddled with 30mm shells by the diving ME 262. It was relatively unharmed, except the release mechanism was damaged, and thus the Grand Slam fell out of the bomber's belly.

Franz Köster pulled up hard, then back down, peppering a lower flying Avro Lancaster's cockpit with more 30mm rounds from above. The gunners stationed on the bomber unsuccessfully attempted to track his jet plane and shoot it down. When the more unlucky Avro begin to dive nose-first with its dead pilot, he leveled out the jet plane until he fired a R4M rocket at a B-17, which snapped off its right wing and sent it into an uncontrollable spiraling dive into the water. After that, he turned his attention to another B-17, only to observe it being split in half by an 88mm shell that punched through the underside and exploded in the crew compartment.

Nearby, a traumatized Bf 109 pilot ejected from his plane after it was chewed up and set on fire by four B-17s' gunners, only to get rammed mid-air by a P-51.

* * *

><p>The Bismarck battleship found itself in a very lop-sided battle, against the entire US and Royal Navy fleet, and some of the USBritish dive bombers after it was spotted through the fog. The command room in the superstructure was blown to pieces, leaving the ship leaderless and severing communications with the base. But after only less than a few minutes of heavy broadsides, the Bismarck's career would be unexpectedly cut short.

The modified Avro Lancaster unknowingly dropped the Grand Slam directly over the Bismarck, and such bomb was designed to punch through meters of reinforced concrete and shake an entire underground fortification to beyond repairs. Instead, it was being dropped on top of a ship, which was roughly equivalent to receiving an entire broadside at one small area.

The 22,000 pounds object crashed through the Bismarck's armored deck, and just happened to smash into one of the primary ammunition holds. Ships that survived such failure were unheard of, especially when hit by a large bunker buster.

* * *

><p>Leon von Braun was promoted to Oberstleutnaut just days ago, and was confronted with a challenging task in his command bunker. The British and the Americans were throwing everything but the kitchen sink at his pitiful island base, for some odd reason. Actually, it seemed more like they also tore out the kitchen sink to throw at him. His naval guns barely outnumbered the amount of hostile ships anchored in his harbor, and had no hopes of ever matching the ships' broadsides. The Bismarck was being beaten senseless, and the Tirpitz was in the drydock still undergoing repairs. His defending aircraft were hopelessly outnumbered and stood little chance even with the flak teams' assistance.<p>

"Sir, we just lost all of our flak guns at Tirpitz's drydock!" one of the radio operators yelled, as the bunker shook again from the explosions above ground and light bulbs flashed.

"Naval battery one, four, and five are also down." another radio operator added in.

"I'm going outside." Leon von Braun replied.

"What?!"

"I said I'm going outside."

Leon opened the blast door and stepped outside, observing the carnage in person. Just before he stepped back in, there was a dark mushroom smoke cloud emerging from the Bismarck, shortly followed by a massive shock wave that caused him to stumble backward. Anything and anyone that were in the harbor area, such as the flak teams assigned to protect the Bismarck, were vaporized in the blast or tossed away like ragdolls. Had it not been for the smoke, it would've been apparent that the front part of the ship had disintegrated into burning metal scraps. The rear portion, now rendered unrecognizable, also suffered from its own ammunition explosions since the shock waves were powerful enough to detonate the rest of the ammunition.

When he stepped back into the bunker, he was handed a message from a command bunker's staff member.

* * *

><p>From: Adolf Hitler<p>

To: Oberstleutnaut Braun

The Bismarck and Tirpitz must not sink. Defend it at all cost!

* * *

><p>Leon slumped into his seat.<p>

"I didn't sign up for this…"

Then the lights went out for good.

"Back up generator?" one of the staff members asked.

"Looks like the air intake was collapsed from the explosions."

"Batteries?"

"The last fresh battery shipment is sleeping with the fishes since about last year."

* * *

><p>Franz Köster directed his jet fighter towards the runway; he had ran out of R4M rockets and 30mm rounds. Eight P-51 Mustang pilots recognized an opportunity to shoot down the ME 262, and they all dove after the landing jet fighter.<p>

Three of them were intercepted by a Bf 109 fighter aircraft, before the Bf 109 pilot was accidentally put to permanent sleep by his own comrades' anti-aircraft flak teams. Three other P-51s were shredded by dozens of quadruple 20mm cannons, and the last two ones fled in panic.

"That's what you get for not letting me finish my meal!" Ludwig Göring yelled, retraining his sights onto other aircraft, before noticing something odd.

The burning P-51 he shot down still had a breathing pilot, operational .50 caliber machine guns, and was diving straight for him. He then turned the quad cannon back at the falling aircraft and attempted to fire again. But nothing happened.

"Hey! What's going on?!" he yelled at Josef.

"Ammo jam!" Josef yelled back, only to lose his arm when the P-51 started firing.

The P-51 crashed into the flak nest before an unfortunate Josef could scream in pain, and metal shards from the explosion tumbled onto a runway, narrowly missing the ME 262.

After Franz Köster taxied the plane onto a tarmac, he got out.

"Franz Köster, we only have two R4M rockets left. The rest are buried under rubble. Make them count." A mechanic solemnly said.

"I can make do. I need to use the restroom real quick. I'll be back!"

When Franz Köster returned, he saw his ME 262 taking off without him. However, it took off on an asphalt runway instead of the concrete one, thus the jet engines' ultra-hot exhaust set the asphalt on fire. Before the fire brigade could even shift their attention from the burning buildings, a shower of cluster bombs from a dive bomber blew the runway into pieces.

"What the…"

"He pointed a gun at us. Obergefreiter Struve just stole your plane, and took off with the two right cannons empty and a half empty fuel tank."

* * *

><p>The ME 262's radio crackled to life shortly after Paul flew past the showers of airplane parts and away from the carnage.<p>

"Paul! I want my damn plane back!"

"Then why don't you hop into another 262… Oh wait, there isn't one, so good luck catching me!"

"You just committed a traitorous act against the Fatherland."

"Like I care."

"Go to hell."

"Those Tommies and Yankees will do it to you first before me. Enjoy their carpet bombing. Oh, and I was the guy who stole your peach schnaps a while ago. You had beaten up the wrong guy."

Paul then turned off the radio before Franz could reply back.

* * *

><p>A long stream of shells zipped past below Daniel as he was speaking to Zahnlos. He pushed the dragon into a climb and looked behind him, the ME 262 was diving towards him with only its left auto-cannons firing. However, it was too far away to make any accurate hits with its low-range cannons.<p>

There were only two pilots who were allowed to fly the only 262 at the island base, him, and Franz. But Franz wasn't stupid enough to fire on a target nearly two kilometers away, since the ME 262's quadruple 30mm auto-cannons' rounds usually dropped 41 meters after traveling a kilometer, making it very inaccurate when targeting over long range. Essentially all of the fired rounds were landing about 100 meters below him.

Something clicked inside his mind. Paul had not completed basic training for the ME 262, but he knew Paul had a tendency of being trigger-happy and being too aggressive with acceleration and maneuvering when he was angry. Most likely he had "borrowed" the jet plane when the Luftwaffe needed it the most.

Daniel nudged Zahnlos to bank hard to the left, then barrel-roll in an upward arc to the right. He mentally counted how many seconds did the stream of shells last. Paul attempted to also bank left and then to the right upon recognizing the mind play, but overshot and screamed past them, gently rocking the dragon and Daniel. The fighter jet then pulled up and banked right again to meet Zahnlos, and Daniel nudged the dragon to continue to bank in the same direction.

It did not take long for both of them to fly in a circle. There was no way the ME 262 could line up its cannons for a kill, especially at over 400 mph, but its cannons occasionally fired short bursts. Although Paul was making a major mistake of attempting to match the dragon's maneuverability instead of using the anti-bomber's tactic against slow moving targets, Daniel feared Zahnlos would stall before the ME 262 would, and a stalled aircraft was a dead aircraft.

As a risky gamble, he nudged the dragon to fly in a straight line. If his timing was right, Zahnlos could spit a fireball at the jet plane. If the timing was off, they could either end up directly in the ME 262's cross-hair or get burned by its exhaust.

As he flew closer, he noticed Paul had taken the bait and was not going to stop flying in a circle, but Zahnlos was flying too fast for him to nail the ME 262's right engine. The dragon dived gently while Daniel took the burnt molar breaker biscuit out of his pocket. Paul also dived as the dragon neared, but he overcompensated and quickly found himself flying below it.

While taking note of how many R4M rockets the ME 262 was equipped with and that the right cannons appeared to be improperly loaded, Daniel threw the biscuit at the rapidly approaching jet plane and watched it get inhaled by the right engine. As Zahnlos spiraled out of control from being destabilized by the ME 262's wake and screeched the pain of being hit by the jet engines' exhaust, he grinned as the ME 262's right engine vomited a shot of flames and a thick plume of black smoke. They eventually regained control and flew towards a field of rocky pillars next to an island; a second longer in the dive and they would've crashed into the water.

Another long hail of shells alerted Daniel of the ME 262 diving towards him as he entered the field. He nudged the dragon to decelerate close to its stall speed and narrowly dodge pillars after pillars, with shells ricocheting around them, while counting how many seconds of fire was wasted. Two rockets also screamed from the jet plane, one struck a pillar somewhat behind the dragon and Daniel, and the other rocket overshot and slammed into the water some distance away. Paul pulled up hard to avoid crashing into the pillars.

After exiting the field, he turned around hard to meet Paul head on. It would be the only time he would ever pull such risky maneuver, only because he knew his opponent had expended all of his ammunition. Though the ME 262 did not change its course.

"You're going to be an an aerial version of a road-kill, reptile boy!" Paul yelled as he jerked the throttle control to the maximum setting, ignoring the excessively high pressure indicated by the fuel injection pressure gauge.

Suddenly, its intact left engine coughed a plume of smoke and died. He had been too aggressive with the throttle and accidentally starved the engine of air with an over-dosage of fuel.

As the now-slightly diving ME 262 closed the distance gap while Paul was attempting to restart the engine, Daniel pulled up hard and then pushed back down, allowing Zahnlos to line up his shot onto the ME 262's upper side. The dragon spat another fireball as the jet plane glided past them. The ME 262's wake destabilized Zahnlos and caused him and Daniel to dive sharply, before the dragon was able to recover and avoid hitting the water at high velocity.

"Hah! He missed!" Paul victoriously shouted as the left engine roared back to life, ignoring the ominous shuddering of the ME-262. He then pulled on the stick to flip the aircraft upside down to do a 180 degree turn, so he could have another attempt at ramming Daniel and Zahnlos.

There was a loud snap, and a piece of metal flew off as the aircraft begin to pitch downward in a spiral.

Cursing loudly, he looked behind him.

The tail fin was missing; it had been melted off.


	13. Chapter Thirteen, Legacy

**Chapter Thirteen, Legacy**

"Hold still Zahnlos, and stop trying to eat the bandage!" Daniel attempting to reason with the dragon without success. Zahnlos continuously nuzzled at the bandages that Daniel was attempting to wrap up the burn marks.

The dragon suddenly licked Daniel, covering him in drools.

_Egh… Danke…_

After several minutes of struggling, he stepped back.

"Alright, I'm done! And don't rip up the bandages please."

Zahnlos stared at the large white wrappings around its belly, but before it could tear at the bandages, it was distracted by a bird.

_Every time he chases one of those birds, it's somewhat amusing and never gets old._

As the dragon bounded off into the forest after the bird, Daniel sat down by the lake, contemplating about the events that occurred earlier in the day.

_If I had only been able to reason with Dr. Bergenstråhle faster, Anton wouldn't have died._

A teardrop rolled down his face, before he got up and started walking back to the cave.

"Oh hello Daniel. I hope you're not in too much distress?"

Daniel looked off to the side at a less rugged part of the cliff wall, and saw a disfigured and battered person standing at the top of it.

"Oh, it's you again. How was the swim with the fishes?"

"It was fantastic! I totally enjoyed breaking both of my legs and thus limping all the way up here, twisting my ankle, busting my left wrist, shattering or breaking my rib cage, receiving a concussion, and other variety of pain I can't describe. Oh, and I also got saltwater on various cuts and scrapes on my body. You have any idea how much it hurts?!"

Daniel was about to say something, but Paul continued on.

"See, if you just died a little earlier, we won't be here, would we?"

He then lifted a revolver at Daniel.

"Here's what's going to happen. Nobody is going to miss you. And no, your dragon pet doesn't count."

"And what about you?"

"A wanted criminal by the Luftwaffe. What do you think?"

"So what do you plan on doing after you put me to sleep?"

"I'll figure something out."

"Really? I know you didn't just randomly decide to pull some strings to have Oberstleutnaut Schleicher killed and frame it on Anton and me. You've put a lot of thought into it a long time ago, and I bet that was pretty much your life plan after some frictions between us."

"SOME frictions? You remind me of those British understatements."

Paul was about to pull the trigger, when he and Daniel noticed a flash of dark blue and white approaching rapidly, with its mouthful of teeth exposed. Paul then turned his attention towards the hostile bandaged dragon, with the intentions of putting it down.

_I couldn't save a friend, Anton. But I can save an equally important friend, Zahnlos._

Daniel then made a motion, appearing as if he was going to pull a pistol out of his pocket. Paul immediately reacted to Daniel's threat of shooting at him.

Three loud bangs echoed through the forest. Daniel fell forward, smiling.

Paul then turned around to face Zahnlos, but the dragon was already lunging towards him before he could aim his revolver.

* * *

><p>"Charles! Where are you? Your mother demanded me to keep an eye on you at all times! Charles!"<p>

"I'll be back Uncle Jack!" Charles shouted back before disappearing into the forest.

"Come on Jack, he'll live. We still have lots of archeology work to do." James said as he tugged Jack back towards the dig sites.

Charles hiked through the forest aimlessly, while unrolling a trail of string behind him so he could easily find his way back to the camp site.

After about an hour of crossing over rough terrain, he came across an interesting cove.

_Well this is interesting. Half of a plane hanging from the edge of the cliff, and the other half appears to have landed on a different plane._

He then climbed down into the cove, and saw a shocking sight; a skeleton with tattered bits of clothing. As he approached towards it, he heard a growl behind him.

A dragon, with some of the strings in its mouth and the rest dragging behind it.

_Looks like I'm not going to be back at the campsite anytime soon._

He backed away from the skeleton, and every step he took, the dragon grew less aggressive towards him, until it spat out the strings and started playing with it.

Charles then decided to tug on a cluster of strings. The dragon pulled back, and it did not take long for it to turn into a brief tug of war. Until the dragon yanked the strings sideways and sent the boy flying into the water.

However, the boy did not come out of the water.

Somewhat alarmed, the dragon stepped into the water, and was suddenly surprised by Charles leaping out of the water and jumping onto its back. It took off almost vertically, nearly throwing off the boy.

_This is awesome!_

* * *

><p>It was late at night when an exhausted and dirty Charles stumbled back into the camp and slumped into a chair next to the fireplace. Jack was sitting across from the flames, journaling the archeology work.<p>

"Had too much fun to know when to come back?" Jack asked,

Instead of replying back, the boy immediately dozed off with a wide grin on his face. Figuring it would be pointless to keep asking, Jack went back to his work. Behind him was a tent where the Swedish task force members' diaries were kept, along with some dragon bones.

* * *

><p>vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv<p>

* * *

><p>A man in a wheelchair gulped down the last of the liquor in his glass. He had no legs, a right arm amputated to the elbow, an eye patch for a missing eye, a broken nose that was never set correctly and significant deep scars all over on him.<p>

"If you want to keep drinking, you have to pay." The bartender warned when the man motioned for more liquor.

The man then left the bar, and entered into a bright day. One block away was a wall of barbed wires, where Berlin was divided between the West and East.

* * *

><p>Charles sat on a cliff edge overlooking a beach being engulfed by stormy waves, pelted by the heavy rainfall. His rainproof radio announced, <em>"We are sadden to announce that wreckages of the lost South African Airways Flight 201 was discovered floating about 110 kilometers south of Naples, a similar fate of the BOAC Flight 781's crash back in January. Six bodies were also found floating alongside with the wreckage. The Minister of Transport, A. T. Lennox-Boyd, has revoked the Comet passenger jetliner of its certificate of airworthiness, which was granted back in 1952…<em>

Then something approaching towards him caught his eyes. A bird…

* * *

><p>The man rolled his wheelchair down the street and ignored any stares from other people. He took notice of a happy family strolling across the street in the opposite direction.<p>

In front of him was a checkpoint surrounded with barbed wires, operated by the American guards on one side, and the Russians on the other. On both sides, the guards were preoccupied with either inspecting traffic passing through, or talking with each other.

He then withdrew a rusty revolver, and aimed.

* * *

><p>No, the figure wasn't a bird, it was a dragon. The same one that he met months ago before the archeological work was completed and everyone packed up to head back home.<p>

The dragon slowed down, and landed next to Charles.

* * *

><p>A soldier screamed and fell backward. Another one simply crumpled to the ground without making a noise. All of the guards took notice and immediately open fired at the armed man in the wheelchair.<p>

* * *

><p>"How are you doing, Toothless?"<p>

Toothless only replied by nuzzling the boy.

"You want me to join you on a ride?"

* * *

><p>"Ceasefire! Ceasefire!" an officer shouted, as he approached the now-limp man. He dug through through the shooter's pockets, and found a picture of a pilot leaning next to a Bf 109 aircraft. At the bottom of the picture stated the location of where the photo was taken, the Keroman IV base, and on the backside, the owner's name. Obergefreiter Struve, Paul.<p>

* * *

><p>The dragon attempted to smile. Giggling, Charles climbed onto its back, and almost immediately Toothless took off into the sky. They zipped upwards, through the dark gray rolling clouds, and into a bright, clear sky.<p>

"It's a magical world, Toothless... Let's go exploring!"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's notes: <strong>The End


End file.
